


Unstoppable

by AnonGrimm



Series: Equilibrium: of Cruelty and Pain (Sabretooth) [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Sabretooth aka Victor Creed (Marvel Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: "Foul" Language, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Cannibalism, Consent Play, Extreme Violence and Gore, Felching (Implied), Feral Behavior, Feral Nature, Graphic Slash Sex, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, IronTooth - Freeform, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Medical Conditions, Misogyny, Palladium Poisoning, Phone Sex, Sexism, Slave Trade, Torture, references to rape, rough anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonGrimm/pseuds/AnonGrimm
Summary: Sabretooth has a deal with Tony Stark: inform him of stray tech and return it to get Stark tech made for him. He gets intel on more wayward Stark weapons in the hands of criminals who are transporting them on a stolen fishing boat to sell them to terrorists. He kidnaps one of their men to torture him for details, and takes his jet to find the boat. He wants to secure or destroy the cargo himself, for Tony. When new information complicates the mission, he needs Tony to come and help him. Together, they go into battle – but trust is still a hard-won thing between them as all the moral lines get blurred a little more.





	1. Cockeyed Optimist

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not post this story anywhere without the author’s permission. Thanks. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome, too. Just comment, email me at anongrimm@msn.com or tweet: @MET_Fic
> 
> Sabretooth is a gleeful villain and I don’t plan to redeem him here; if you like evil main characters, enjoy! If not, you might want to re-read the tags...
> 
> TIMELINE: After Iron Man 1, before Iron Man 2: therefore, Tony is not yet an Avenger. This is the IronTooth sequel to “Over the Edge”. My Sabretooth is based on the blond mutant in the comics, but Tony will be largely movieverse with a little influence from the comics.
> 
> My Sabretooth is inspired by the version of him when they draw him sexy and write him as an intelligent, though brutal, character. Rather than make this note as long as the story, you can get more details at my personal fanfic blog: mindseyetheatre.net or look up Sabretooth on the Marvel Comics wikis and databases. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

I can be nice but don’t test me  
I can get wicked  
I get wicked, wicked, I get wicked  
There’s no escaping it  
Wicked  
You wanna kick it  
watch me get wicked  
step up and get it  
‘cause I get wicked

I’m a beast came to rip this spot up  
Stick to chords cause the devil wears prada  
We want peace but we can make this rowdy, stop  
We don’t want to hurt nobody  
You can’t hate me ‘cause my nature’s nice  
And my heart’s for the people of the world tonight  
If you got a problem with it take it up with life  
‘cause if you try to push me it ain’t gonna be nice

I am not afraid of this mountain in my way  
You can push me to my knees I believe  
and I am now awake  
uncontrolled and not ashamed  
When it washes over me I feel free

These cats can’t see us they checking the wrong mirrors  
Cavaliers, don’t mistake kindness for weakness  
They never wanted to hear us  
My faith is my life it’s rolling the dice  
If you try to push me it ain’t gonna be nice

I can be nice but don’t test me  
I can get wicked  
I get wicked, wicked, I get wicked  
There’s no escaping it  
Wicked  
You wanna kick it  
watch me get wicked  
step up and get it  
‘cause I get wicked

I get wicked when you come against me  
So quit it, stop trying to push me around  
Let’s kick it if you really want to touch fire  
Come get it step up I’ll bring you down  
Step up and get it because I get wicked

~ I Get Wicked (Thousand Foot Krutch, edited)

*****************************************************************

Victor grinned as he sliced another nasty wound into his captive’s chest.

The sweating and bleeding young man gasped and glared up at him – once the screaming stopped. Begging to be allowed to live had started, while defiance was mostly overwith. He wondered if he could push it all the way into begging to be killed and still get the information he needed.

“Please, I told you everything I know about the boat… Don’t…” he begged in Spanish.

“Yeah ya did,” Victor responded in kind, “but I ain’t got time t’ search tha whole fuckin’ Pacific fer it, an’ it’s gonna be dawn soon. Last known coordinates gets ya a ride t’ Hawaii.” When the dark eyes went huge, he knew his plan would work. _Idiot lackey thug like this won’t know coordinates, no way he can even read a chart. Ask fer somethin’ he can’t give, maybe he compromises t’ save ‘is hide an’ gives me a basic headin’ – that’s all I need._

“You’ll just kill me, and if you don’t, they will.”

“Trust me, pendejo, yer gonna wanna make me happy – survivin’ long ‘nuff fer ‘em t’ kill ya is a much better end … less messy.”

“You grin like the freak you are,” he spat back. “Killing a man makes you happy. I want to live.” His Spanish almost sounded like Italian, a common quirk for Argentinians.

“Not t’ take away from tha enjoyment yer providin’, but tha grin’s cuz flyin’ over tha South Pacific Ocean, hopin’ yer gonna break’s got that song rollin’ ‘round in my head: sweet Nellie, Mizzi Gaynor t’ ya, singin’ _Cockeyed Optimist_ – that’s me. I’d sing it fer ya, but I sing like a toad an’ tha claws’re probly torture ‘nuff already.”

“You are insane.”

“So they tell me.”

On a whim, he began a game of Tic Tac Toe on the man’s torso, the grid a bit shaky as he writhed and screeched. Cutting an O into the center square, he called out to his pilot in a cleaner Spanish dialect.

“Yer X, Zane, where ya want it?”

“Upper left, Boss.”

By the time he won the game, the board sagged and sobbed out the destination: Buenos Aires, Argentina. As suspected, it didn’t match up with his original intel, that they would head for Peru.

“Most logical place t’ sell off captive Chinese fishermen is tha slave labor trade in the Lima District, Peru. What ‘bout tha ones ya stole tha boat from – any o’ ‘em still aboard an’ breathin’?”

Barely able to speak, he flinched weakly and found his tongue when Victor raised a bloody dripping claw.

“The others killed them,” he whispered, “soon after we took it.”

“They killed ‘em, huh? Yer just tha mascot, ain’t done a damn thing wrong? Pirates in tha weapons an’ slave trade killin’ able-bodied prisoners – I guess we’ll see.”

Zane chimed in, switching to English. “Either way, maybe it’s a time-saver? Argentina’s got a slave trade, too. Stark contraband is rare enough – they might want to give their home turf first dibs.”

“Maybe. Time fer a boat hunt in tha opposite direction.”

“Got it, changing course.”

The tarp covering the open space behind the seats crackled under his weight as he rose from sitting on the man’s fractured knees. The smell of the blood was driving him to distraction.

Victor fetched the first aid kit and another huge black towel from his small sleeping cabin and stared down at the traumatized criminal. He had tied the man’s wrists to his neck, and every time he struggled he had nearly strangled himself. The legs were free, but the will to kick had been carved out of him.

“Fair’s fair, gonna doctor tha worst o’ yer wounds – don’t need ya bleedin’ on one o’ my seats fer tha rest o’ tha trip.” He decided to take the shock over not being killed on his captive’s face as a compliment. _They’re always too stupid t’ realize I ain’t done yet. Once we find tha boat – maybe then I’ll be done._

Sitting next to him but off the tarp to avoid getting his black jeans even bloodier, he opened the kit and started bandaging the deepest cuts. Just to be a dick, quite sure the idiot understood English perfectly well, he let his humming break into the song in his head. It sounded considerably less sweet and chipper as it was mangled by his off-key baritone.

“When tha sky’s a bright canary yellow  
I forget ev’ry cloud I’ve ever seen  
so they call me a cockeyed optimist  
immature an’ incurably green

I’ve heard people rant an’ rave an’ bellow  
that we’re done an’ we might as well be dead  
but I’m only a cockeyed optimist  
an’ I can’t get it int’ my head…”

One claw cut the thin black silk ropes to free the wrists from the abraded neck. He half expected the fool to try to strike him, but as usual, the body was going into shock and the ability to fight was gone. With a sigh, he went back to destroying the song.

“I hear tha human race  
is fallin’ on its face  
an’ hasn’t very far t’ go  
but ev’ry whippoorwill  
is sellin’ me a bill  
an’ tellin’ me it just ain’t so

I could say life’s just a bowl o’ Jello  
an’ ‘ppear more intelligent an’ smart  
but I’m stuck like a dope  
with a thing called hope  
an’ I can’t get it out o’ my heart!  
Not this heart...”

“Yikes, Boss.”

Victor grinned. “ _South Pacific_ is a great flick. It ain’t my fault ya got stunted taste in tunes. A man can’t live on hard rock alone.”

“I think you left the tune miles back.”

Chuckling at the teasing, he closed the kit and ignored the whimpers and yelps as he wiped most of the blood away from red and trembling caramel skin. To be polite, he switched back to Spanish.

“Here we go, Lautaro, I’m a man o’ my word. Gonna get ya a seat but keep tha towel ‘round ya. Mess up my jet an’ I’ll start doodlin’ on tha rest o’ ya.”

He picked the naked and limp thing up wrapped in the towel and winced with pointed ears pinning down as the prey screeched over being moved. Once he had him in a seat, he belted him in with arms secured in the towel and under the tight seatbelt.

Lautaro Quiroga had passed out in the alley behind the bar he’d been thrown out of in the Chilean port city of Valparaíso, and the boat full of his fellow pirates and its cache of Stark weapons had sailed without him. His luck had gone downhill from there when Victor had found him on his hunt to track a rumor of a group that specialized in finding the best contraband money and murder could buy.

Staring down at him, Victor cocked his head to one side. “If’n ya were washed down an’ clipped, ya might could be worth a fuck. Can be a long trip t’ Hawaii from here an’ I hate bein’ bored – whattaya say?”

Glaring, the man tried to spit at him, but he didn’t have much spit left. A bad hangover on top of being tortured had to be a party.

“You’re a faggot, too? I’m a man. A man fucks bitches. Dirty mutie cunt.”

From the cockpit, Zane whistled in awe and stretched one of the most versatile words of the English language into a dramatic drawl. “Duuude.”

Victor’s grin didn’t even twitch. “Now, now, he’s got ‘is reasons fer bein’ a shithead.”

Ignoring the pirate, he went to sit at his favorite window on a matching towel spread over his chair. He watched the world fill with light as he waited. It was always beautiful to see the sun rise over water or snow, but on this morning, the vast emptiness of the ocean tugged at the empty dark hole inside him until that beauty slowly turned gray.

Somewhere, a boat was moving in that water, full of things that belonged to Tony Stark. Chasing it wasn’t what he should be doing, but the opportunity it dangled in front of him was too sweet to ignore.

_This catch oughta make Tony’s day – maybe I can use it t’ get ‘im t’ make mine._

Falling into his favorite distraction, he let memories of Tony soothe him: the scent of the man, the sound of his breathing as he slept by his side – trusting him to do that – and seeing the curious fascination in those beautiful brown eyes when he looked at him, unafraid … or excited in heat.

Heavy-lidded, he saw the tops of swelling waves begin to sparkle as the sunlight touched them, turning the insidious gray into deep and ever-changing hues of green and blue.

~ ~ ~

“Chinese fishing vessel FV Tian Yu 8 spotted,” Zane called back to him.

With a twitch, he snapped alert again, surprised that he had nearly dosed off. “How’s she look?”

“Not a bad size for a rat trap, white with crappy blue trim near the waterline, BZSJ6 painted in black on the side. Typical fishing trawler, though I assume it was in better shape before they stole it from the fishermen.”

Victor smirked at the feverish stare of his captive before rising to take a gander at the target with one hand resting on the back of Zane’s chair.

“Thar she blows,” he quipped with a grin. “Bristlin’ with heavily-armed rats, too – I spy with my li’l eye an AK-47, M-16, QBZ-95… They’re totin’ tha whole alphabet down there.”

He reached for his phone in his back pocket and hit the speed dial for the Tin Man. When he answered, Victor pursed his lips and managed a good shrill whistle between his fangs, grinning at Tony’s protest.

“Wake up, flyboy! I got me a boat in my sights full o’ yer weapons. ‘Sposed t’ be explosives, too – bombs, ya name it, bein’ transported fer sale t’ persons o’ low moral intentions.”

“This is the group you’ve been tracking from Argentina that Stane was selling to?”

“Yup, but my intel says they’ve also been stealin’ more from other illicit clients. Ya want it recovered? Gonna cost ya in toys.”

The bright fast voice sounded distracted by work and Victor could almost imagine the dismissive hand gesture he made as he replied.

“Light it up for me? I bet it’d look great on the bottom of the ocean – start a new reef, give the fish something to do.”

“Yer call.”

“Don’t acquire it for personal use, huh?”

“Perish tha thought.”

“Just seek and destroy, preferably from a distance? Any explosives in the mix that aren’t mine being sold by idiots with no clue how to store or transport them could be dicey.”

“Didn’t know ya cared, but if’n yer worried, ya could come out here an’ hold my hand.”

“Bye, Victor – have fun.” The call clicked off.

Burying the wistful spector of wishing he was in Malibu, perhaps licking up the back of Tony’s neck, Victor growled and slapped the top of the pilot’s chair. “Can’t say I was in tha mood t’ pick lead outta my navel, so why don’t we just light ‘em up with tha Grinch. This is gonna be a hoot.”

As he turned to get the 9K38 Igla, the surface-to-air missile and laucher known as SA-24 Grinch to its friends, he caught the smug smile and intent glassy dark eyes of the pirate. One sniff brought the growl back up.

“Go high an’ circle, huh?” he asked the pilot. “I’m smellin’ a rat right here.”

He pushed up the long sleeves of his black t-shirt to the elbows and stalked back over as his captive winced and paled, the scent crashing from aggression back to terror in seconds. Without hesitation, he stabbed a claw into the throat, barely missing the vital stuff, and left it sunk in.

“What’s tha story, Wishbone? Why ya lookin’ so pleased with yerself ‘bout me blowin’ yer pals an’ yer cut o’ tha cash t’ Hell?”

“Go ahead, freak,” he answered in clipped English. “You will only anger the Iron Man once the truth is known.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Tell ya what, I’m gonna turn yer neck int’ a sieve an’ maybe ya give up yer truth before ya lose too much blood?”

He only got four stabs in before the idiot broke. It was a new record.

“The cargo isn’t just weapons,” he gasped out in Spanish. “It’s the fishermen, and … girls, caught or bought. A few are for the others, with more to sell. Some are pure – it fetches a higher price.”

Growling, Victor glared down at him. “Girls. They ain’t that tall, I bet – hardly a pubic hair among tha lot?” His hand darted down to grip around the neck, the other one undoing the seatbelt. “Did ya take a turn?” He sniffed, but all he smelled from before the torture was stale booze and sweat. “Nope, that’s good.”

“You should destroy the boat. If you try to get them, they’ll be shot. By now, they might just thank you for a quick death. A lot can happen on a long trip – while keeping them intact.”

Zane cursed. “Can that sack of shit die now?”

“Patience is a fuckin’ virtue. Usual bullshit moron too, ain’t he – a hymen ain’t somethin’ ya break.”

“Let’s discuss his bloody end instead – before you both make me throw up.”

“Tha bastard’s just tryin’ t’ rile us.” Victor moved his hand to cover the whimpering fool’s mouth and whipped out his phone again. He interrupted Tony mid-curse. “Listen up, hero – this business just got dirty an’ tricky. Gonna send ya coordinates. Slip int’ somethin’ more lethal an’ get yer tin ass out here.”

“I will not, just handle it – I’m in the middle of –”

“Part o’ their payload is kids, Tony, li’l girls – fer use an’ fer sale.”

Silence reigned for a few heartbeats. “Send the coordinates.”

Victor let go of the pirate and clicked over to texts to send their location. He tossed the phone on the next seat and glared down at the bleeding mess.

“Tony don’t like tha idea o’ me as a torturer, my normally unruffled pilot’s gotta daughter, an’ I never did like snivelin’ cowards, so it looks like yer time’s up, boy. ‘Sides, I’m probly gonna be a lead magnet before this shit is over, an’ toppin’ off tha fuel tank is always smart. Remember when I told ya that survivin’ long ‘nuff so’s yer buddies are tha ones who kill ya would be less messy?”

Raising his voice over the abrupt stream of frantic Spanish cursing, Victor snatched him up, towel and all, and threw him over the row of seats and back onto the bloody tarp with a hard thud.

Following him down, he tore the towel away and tossed it in a heap to the side. Snagging an ankle as the feet tried to kick, he dropped his jaw and bit the foot, severing it at the halfway mark with a crunch of little bones. Spitting it out to the tarp, he fell over him and dug in – cutting, opening, and eating while the prey was still alive. The act made him achingly hard as the screams split the air again, this time almost drowning out the engine noise.

With blood coating his throat inside and out, his facial fur dripping with it, he watched the life end as he swallowed hunks of the body. Tony was fast; he knew he didn’t have the luxury of savoring the meal. He consumed as much as he could while leaving time to clean up a bit and dispose of it all.

 _Just in case, should do my tidyin’ up first._ He left the corpse in mostly large pieces and went into his small cabin’s bathroom. _Tony can’t smell any better’n most other folks, so gettin’ blood outta sight’s all that matters._ He had kept the mess off the jet’s interior and most of his clothes; the clothes and towels were black for this exact reason.

They were probably close to being out of time, but the rest was even easier – he was practiced at wrapping human remains in a tarp – and Zane was already flying out farther from the boat and lowering down to skim over the choppy surface of the water.

“Could of waited until the clean up and dump was done to call in the righteous flying tank, right?”

“Where’s yer spirit o’ adventure? Tha dial goes t’ eleven fer a reason.”

“Not sure I’d play the Russian roulette version of ‘I’ve got a secret’ with that guy, but hey – it’s your bullet.”

Hoisting the bundle over one shoulder and catching Zane’s nod, Victor opened the door with the curved stairs molded into it and dumped the tarp into the water. The lead scuba weights sewn into its lining dragged it down and out of sight in seconds.

“Gotta blip incoming, Boss – it’s probably him. He’ll have visual right … now.”

“We’re all set.”

Victor grinned as the wind whacked around him, ratting the braided bun at the nape of his neck. In no time, Iron Man flew alongside, the flat glow of the rectangle eyes gleaming in at him.

“Nice trick,” he said, the mechanized voice low and cold. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Preparin’ t’ board tha boat. Use yer targetin’ trick an’ find those girls, an’ tha fishermen, too. My jet’ll circle wide with this door open. Ya get ‘em out safe an’ get ‘em in here.”

“While you distract the pirates with your pointy bits, I presume?”

“Ya got it in one. Do we hafta pretend we ain’t workin’ t’gether?”

“Why bother? None of these idiots are going to survive to tell the tale.”

Victor whistled, but the wind swallowed it up. “I love it when ya talk dirty.”

“Play it by ear is my MO, remember? The captives are the priority – the rest all goes down with the ship.”

“If’n they spot us early, they might could start killin’ ‘em. Let’s get ‘em safe up here fast as we can an’ then fig out tha rest.”

“Fine, but anything marked Stark on board is going in the drink.”

“‘Sides yerself?” Victor chuckled. He leaned down to yank off his boots and socks. The claws escaped the moment they could. “Showtime. Happy huntin’, flyboy.”

“Yeah,” Iron Man said, sounding wary, “you too, killer.”

When he peeled away, Victor turned his head to meet Zane’s smirk.

“Take me higher, I wanna drop on ‘em like feral ordinance. Then circle an’ be ready t’ take on pint-sized damsels an’ fishermen.”

“I’m on it. Have fun.”

The jet swooped in over the boat in Iron Man’s wake. Victor tossed a Cheshire grin at his pilot and jumped out, all claws blazing. His roar of challenge rang out, splitting the morning air as he fell.

*****************************************************************

Any upright human holding a weapon was targeted in red on the HUD as Tony soared in. He was a bit surprised when every one of them whirled away from him to look at the bow, but once he heard Victor’s roar and spotted the insane feral leaping from the passing jet, he didn’t blame them.

“Wow – that is a furry bioweapon, and I’m glad he’s on our side.”

“Technically, sir,” JARVIS interjected, “Creed is nowhere near our side. Multiple heat signatures are present in the engine room.”

“Taking advantage of the distraction, got it – let’s move. You’ve got to admit, though – I do, as a former connoisseur of weapons of mass destruction – he qualifies as one.”

Firing carefully aimed repulsors at the few pirates that weren’t engaged with Victor, he avoided heavier artillery. He cleared a path to the engine room fast while JARVIS brought up schematics of the boat as a 3D map around him.

The moment he breached the narrow space, he targeted and put bullets into any man using someone else as a human shield. The one he didn’t kill, an older man with a scraggly beard, gripped his bleeding belly in his arms as he fell to his knees. Terrified kids screamed, some of them holding each other or even running to the shocked fishermen.

Tony advanced on the last one alive who had threatened them. The man tried to speak, babbling in Spanish. He barely caught a name and some garbled threats as blood dripped down the furry chin.

“Okay, Black Beard, listen up,” he ordered in Spanish. “One: I don’t care. Two: you aren’t going to be alive long enough for me to listen, if I did care. The only reason you didn’t get one in the skull is so you can tell me who and where your buyer is. A plausible answer gets you a faster end than an ugly belly wound.”

Glaring up at him, the pirate stopped trying to protect his abdomen. Inexplicably, he shoved fingers into the hole and yanked it wider.

“Shit! I hate these fanatic types!” Another well-placed bullet made sure he was dead. He lowered his hands and switched to Mandarin. “My friend and I are taking these guys down. You’re going to be safe, but we need your help with the kids, okay? I have to get them onto a plane. You can all get out the same way.”

They all began to talk at once, but it was hard to untangle it all. He let JARVIS handle a quick headcount. The HUD displayed it: seventeen male adults, eight female minors.

“Sir, hostiles are approaching.”

“Other than Victor, right?”

“Correct, sir.”

Swinging a glance over at the crates piled around, a swift scan and analysis made his blood run cold. He popped the faceplate up for a moment to show the kids his face, trying not to let the smile waver.

“Okay, we need to be topside, now,” he continued in Mandarin, cutting off their frantic voices. Teamwork, right? Get that trawling net and the ropes! Tie the girls together, legs through the net to walk – the less flailing, the safer they’ll be. I can lift them all out at once. Let’s move!” Switching back to Spanish, he hoped that one of them speaking it meant they would all understand it. “We’re going to get you out of here, take you somewhere safe. I have to fly you up to a plane. Understand?”

The two oldest girls stared at him as they nodded, but when the fishermen approached with the net and ropes, they began to help with the younger kids.

Dropping the faceplate, he frowned as JARVIS confirmed the unstable status and contents of a trio of crates: the only ones not bearing his name. _If they go off, they’ll take my creations with them and probably tear this boat into pieces as easily as tissue paper._

*****************************************************************

From the moment Victor’s claws hit the deck and gouged cuts into it, he was taking bullets and killing people. He moved with jumps, sometimes landing on top of his prey. Everytime he connected, they lost a limb or died in a single slash of Adamantium claws.

Iron Man had disappeared belowdecks, but he couldn’t distract himself with worry over him. _He can handle ‘isself, do yer bit._

Fresh blood burst from new wounds as one of the few pirates left in one piece on the deck opened up on him with an AK-47. He leaped through the automatic fire and forced the idiot to retreat. Landing on top of the wheelhouse, he growled when the prey zagged and escaped down the port side and into the interior of the boat. Killing anything breathing while he gave chase, he loped after the living meat.

*****************************************************************

“Keep holding onto each other, okay?” Tony told the girls in Spanish, trying not to think about the fact that the oldest was maybe eleven, carrying the youngest who was about four. They were struggling to walk in the net. “Stay behind me.”

The fishermen were helping the girls and carrying the coils of excess rope attached to the net. As they came to the engine room stairs, he called it practice for the plane and had them hug each other tight as he took the ropes and lifted them up to the interior section of the main deck. Handing the ropes back to the men so he could defend them all, Tony began to retrace his route.

“Tracking our hostiles, JARVIS, what’s the best way out?”

“I detect three left – not counting Creed. The only viable route at the moment is straight ahead.”

“Three? He’s been busy.”

“Sir, they’re on the move, and we are –” JARVIS was interrupted by gunfire as the door in front of them burst open.

Tony was ready, but even as he fired, a roar rang in his helmet when Victor jumped on the pirate from behind. An AK-47 skated to his feet, but he ignored it to watch the feral dodge the repulsor hit.

“Oh geez, don’t look!” he yelled out to his charges, turning his head too late to miss it.

The mutant’s jaw had dropped, fangs biting the join of neck and shoulder – exactly where his own scars were. They didn’t stop at an inch, and in a frantic heartbeat, the entire arm was severed and spit out.

Another pirate appeared from a port side door and filled Victor’s back with lead. A few bullets struck his skull and ricocheted away with a clang to hit the walls. The narrow passageway was filled with screams from captives and captors alike.

Victor swung his head up to meet Tony’s gaze only to let out an animal shriek of rage as a Molotov cocktail was tossed at him. It shattered into a fireball that consumed him almost instantly.

“That’s it! Screw this!” Tony saw Victor pitch forward to roll and he took the opening and blew the man back with one repulsor strike. He wasn’t getting up. Tony tried to help Victor, but he got swatted at, backing up fast to avoid the claws.

Snarling at him, the feral shouted, “Get ‘em out, now! I’ll be right behind ya!”

Horrified to leave him on fire as smoke filled the passage, he surged forward. “Come on!”

They gained the deck and the men picked up the kids as they all ran after him. Halfway across toward the bow, he spotted the jet coming in. His fishermen dropped down, protecting the girls as gunfire opened up behind them, but if he stopped to fight he’d miss the pass of the jet.

“Take them!” The words in Mandarin filled his head as ropes were held up to him.

He acted in a flash, grabbed the ropes, and launched into the air. Two fishermen were killed as they used their bodies to shield the girls’ escape.

Lifting them, screaming, like a wriggling net full of fish, he aimed for the open door of the jet. Flying over it, he let his momentum swing the net inside the opening. To his surprise, the pilot tilted the craft in a brilliant move at the exact right moment to bring the open door up, giving Tony the chance the slip them inside without tossing them at the back wall.

They tumbled in as the jet surged forward, righting itself, and Tony fired on the dangling ropes to prevent them from hindering the aircraft. He could hear the pilot telling them in Spanish to move to the back of the jet before it tore away from him.

He whirled in the air, ready to give covering fire to the fishermen as he swooped back down. They were huddled against the peak of the bow, pressing against the white metal railings. Tony had almost reached them when the harrying gunfire was abruptly torn upward, away from all of them. Looking up at the wheelhouse, he froze after his boots hit the deck.

Victor had lurched out of the open door they had escaped through, still on fire, and jumped up onto the shooter who had emerged from the wheelhouse. Claws had ripped across the back of the man’s knees to bring him down.

The boat was still underway and had begun a tilting turn. He tore his gaze away from Victor and faced the fishermen.

“Who can drive this tub?” he called out in Mandarin. A few of them began to move out of their huddle and Tony grabbed up the first one he could reach who was nodding to him and flew up to the wheelhouse with him. “We can’t jostle the crates in the engine room,” he told the man as he stumbled inside to grip the wheel. “Head farther out from the coast and keep that heading.”

He barely got back out to help Victor in time to watch him savage the last pirate into mismatched parts.

The fishermen were on the move and he turned away to work with them. They had to put the fire out in the passageway.

His last glance at Victor was hard to look at, and likely going to haunt his nightmares. Scorched and smoking flesh trailed a wide path up his back all the way up. Bits of long hair were burning, the mass of it charred away, and in a few places the gleam of Adamantium could be seen on the roasted skull and torso. The blackened flesh of the back was splitting and bleeding as he tore at the corpse beneath him.

Tony swallowed bile and rushed to fight the fire with the others.

*****************************************************************

Pain flashed until an alarming number of nerves were burned away. The fire wasn’t out – on him or in the passageway. Overhead, he heard gunfire.

_Missed one._

Pulling himself up with a strangled scream locked in his throat behind clenched teeth, he stumbled forward to the open door Tony had gone through with the prisoners. Clinging to the metal doorframe in shock, he watched as Iron Man shot into the air, dangling a trawler net full of screaming kids.

_That’s somethin’ ya don’t see everyday._

His head swung to find the fishermen, pinned against the bow railing. The shooter was laying down harrying fire to keep them there, probably still hoping to salvage some of the goods.

_Gotta admire tha bastard’s pluck – most fuckers faced with Sabretooth on one side an’ Iron Man on tha other woulda jumped overboard by now._

Glancing up, he stared as Iron Man played a rather fucked up version of basketball, tossing netted kids into the opening of the expertly rolled jet as it turned upright again and shot past him.

The deck tilted a hair under his clawed feet and he looked up at the wheelhouse. _Well, that ain’t good. Move, ya shithead, not done by a longshot. Yer gonna win, ya always do – so suck it up an’ get back t’ work._

Victor pushed away from the door frame, ignored the flames that still licked at his back, and leaped up to get the shooter. His aim was off a tick, but he managed to land on the prey anyhow, slashing claws across the backs of the knees to cripple it.

The M-16 tilted upward as the prey’s back arched, and bullets rained down on them by the time he had him pressed flat on the blood-spattered deck. Every bullet that entered his burning back pushed him deeper into the sparking red of rage madness.

With prey under his claws and pain fueling predatory rage, he felt his grasp on civilized thoughts slipping. The beast within was far better at coping with fire damage, and the overtaxed healing factor knew it. He batted the weapon out of reach and scanned the area carefully before conscious reason faded. The others with Tony were belowdecks fighting the fire, and the inner kitty wouldn’t hurt his mate. The helmsman couldn’t see him here. Bleeding meat that he needed to heal was at hand … warm and waiting.

By the time his fangs tore into the prey, only the beast was left.

~ ~ ~

From a short distance, a sound grew louder. He growled at the scent of his mate. He would share his kill, but his hunger drove him to survive, to eat, as much and as quickly as he could before scavengers gathered and had to be driven away.

When his mate abruptly jumped into the air, he snarled at the strange behavior. He couldn’t understand the thing that had surrounded his body. Did it threaten?

“Oh God, you’re out to lunch both ways, and I can’t let the others see that. Victor, stop. You need to ... hide that.”

Fear scent – his mate reeked of it. The strange substance was hurting him. Snarling in rage, he began to rise to a crouch. He wanted to jump, shred the thing that confined his mate.

“Victor? Victor, please ... stop.”

The odd sounds made him pause. Something scratched at the back of his awareness. The fierce creature that slept was waking – the sounds were meant for the sleeper.

“Victor, you need the protein, I know. It’s instinct…”

Shaking his head, he growled at the feeling of being pushed back without moving. The other one knew his mate was not in danger. The meat, the kill, the hunger drove him. He ate. His mate made the sound again; it was ... disgust – his scent full of fear.

“Please stop. They’re coming back. We’ll figure something out. I’ll help you – I won’t let you die.”

His mate reached to touch him and he shied from it. Ears pinned, he bent to eat again.

*****************************************************************

 **Author’s Note:** The fishing boat description, name, and numbers in this story are from a real Chinese boat that was captured by Somali pirates. My pirates are from Argentina, but I wanted to borrow the boat. The Grinch missile launcher Victor almost uses is the same one from my story _Cutting Edge_ that he used to shoot down the Hydra-modified stolen F-22 before it could either kill or capture Tony Stark in the Artic Circle. “Tin Man” is yet another _Wizard of Oz_ reference. “Pendejo” is Spanish for “a stupid or contemptible person”.

“What’s the story, Wishbone?” refers to a children’s TV show from the late 1990s named _Wishbone_ , where the title star, a Jack Russell Terrier, wore costumes to portray characters in classic literature as he told the stories to viewers. It struck me that the silliness combined with decently faithful tellings of Shakespeare and other classics would likely amuse Victor if he came across it while bored in front of a TV. “The dial goes to eleven” is a reference to a guitar amplifier joke in the spoof rock and roll comedy film _Spinal Tap_. Victor’s enjoyment of goofy entertainment and old movies like _South Pacific_  continues to amuse me.

Zane is a canon character, Victor’s jet pilot from the limited series comics _Mary Shelley Overdrive_. Marvel never bothered to name him, so I did. The stunt they pull off flying low and opening the stairs over an ocean is a trick they pulled in that story. I have no idea how plausible that is, but I’m borrowing it from Marvel, so if it’s not possible, it’s their fault.

I enjoy portraying the man Victor and the inner beast of his feral side as almost two separate creatures, which are aware of each other. I love the concept that in the feral beast’s view, the man is the brutal one, and he’s not wrong. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

*****************************************************************


	2. Fell Clutch of Circumstance

I’ll smile, I know what it takes to fool this town  
I’ll do it ‘til the sun goes down  
And all through the night time, oh yeah,  
Oh, yeah, I’ll tell you what you want to hear  
Keep my sunglasses on while I shed a tear  
It’s never the right time, yeah, yeah

I’ll put my armor on,  
Show you how strong I am  
I’ll put my armor on,  
I’ll show you that I am

I’m unstoppable  
I’m a Porsche with no brakes  
I’m invincible  
Yeah, I win every single game  
I’m so powerful  
I don’t need batteries to play  
I’m so confident  
I’m unstoppable today  
Unstoppable today  
Unstoppable today  
Unstoppable today  
I’m unstoppable today

I break down, only alone I will cry out loud  
You’ll never see what’s hiding out  
Hiding out deep down, yeah, yeah  
I know I’ve heard that to let your feelings show  
Is the only way to make friendships grow  
But I’m too afraid now, yeah, yeah

I’ll put my armor on,  
Show you how strong I am  
I’ll put my armor on,  
I’ll show you that I am

I’m unstoppable  
I’m a Porsche with no brakes  
I’m invincible  
Yeah, I win every single game  
I’m so powerful  
I don’t need batteries to play  
I’m so confident  
I’m unstoppable today  
Unstoppable today  
Unstoppable today  
Unstoppable today  
I’m unstoppable today

~ Unstoppable (Sia)

*****************************************************************

Iron Man was saying his name in Tony’s voice. “I won’t let you die.”

The growls faded as he finally focused and saw Tony’s face in the suit. He was crouched on a knee beside him. Two metal fingers were carefully touching his elbow – but he couldn’t feel the touch.

“Are you looking at me now? Are you … Victor?”

A sharp sniff shot some ugly truth into his slowly waking awareness. Blood was dripping from his mouth as he swallowed a hunk of meat. Tony was beside him, one metal knee in the smeared blood of his kill. Dread froze the shudder that snaked down his spine, spiced with the scent of Tony’s fear and disgust.

“Going by GPM, I’m not sure if I’m talking to Victor or Hello Kitty. Help me out?”

Hissing at his body parts that moved and could feel pain, Victor’s voice emerged as a low rasp. “GPM?”

“Hi there. Growls per minute. I don’t mind playing the name game with you. One of the pirates kept trying to tell me his – never did catch it.”

 _He saw, he saw!_ The thought shrieked in a circle in his head like a flock of frightened birds. Swallowing hard as he scrambled for a mask of indifference, Victor grunted. “Tha easiest way t’ remember a list o’ unfamiliar names is through attrition.”

“In this case, I couldn’t agree more. Welcome back … but you may not want to move.”

“What’s tha sitch?” He started to try to rise, but a metal hand he couldn’t feel held his shoulder blade down.

“Ah – you’re well-done, just stay still. Sorry, but … yeah.”

“Cookin’ jokes.” A growl bubbled up from the depths at being pinned. “It’s nice that ya know yer an insufferable jerk here an’ there.”

“I’m told it’s important to be self-aware.”

“Lemme up, flyboy, or yer gonna be self-aware o’ how easy I can cut that metal, capiche?”

“Got it.”

He was watched as he fought to sit up in the remains of his kill. Tony was staring at his face like a man who was wary of looking anywhere else, but his face was a mess of blood and burns.

“You are … an unstoppable wrecking machine – fearless, and … terrifying.”

Working on shoving down his fear of being incapacitated, he ignored the compliment – if that was what it was. “What happened?”

“We put out the fire. Here they come, now – good timing. And...”

The man’s stiff body language was obvious even in the suit. Taking in his stoic expression and cool tone, Victor’s heart sank. “Tony...”

“You ate parts of him,” Tony resumed in a whisper, his gaze steady on his face as the fangs and his chin still dripped red.

Victor stared at him, waiting for his anger, but then the expression changed until all he saw in those beautiful dark eyes was concern.

“Had t’…”

“I know, I … get it. I said so, but you weren’t you. Victor ... I’m not sure how to process it, but…” As he watched, Tony diverted the topic with a shiver. “Can you heal from all this? I hope you don’t mind the skinhead look.”

Heart in his throat, Victor groused, “More jokes.”

“It’s how I cope.”

“I know,” he repeated the man’s hesitant words back to him. “I get it.” Letting out a sigh, he lifted a dripping hand, placed it better, and shifted his shoulders and back. Agony made him bite down on his lip and a sharp tooth between incisor and fang made it bleed – but the hole closed instantly. “It’ll heal,” he muttered, “just gimme a minute. Distract me by answerin’ my fuckin’ question, huh? What’s our sitch?”

“We’re heading farther out from the coast, your jet is still lurking, and we need to get off the boat. It’s a lost cause.”

Victor growled under his breath. “Go ask those men what they think o’ yer assessment an’ get back t’ me. I’m bettin’ not a one o’ ‘em are gonna like it.”

“They don’t really have a choice if they want to live.” He rose and walked away to the end of the upper deck.

Victor smirked when he heard the helmsman’s vote. Tony might have to stop being surprised once they all voted the same way.

*********************************************************

Tony didn’t help as Victor fought to stand, swaying on his feet before he leaned on the wheelhouse wall. His last offer of assistance had been snarled at.

“Every single one of them is addlebrained from the trauma – it’s the only explanation.”

“They gotta right t’ their choice.”

As he watched, the skin began to heal over the scalp. A few long patches of blond hair here and there were filled in by a short golden buzzcut that pushed out from the healed skin and continued to grow.

“Some of those crates contain unstable explosives.”

“What an’ how many?”

“Dynamite, three crates, old and badly stored. My scan showed that the nitroglycerin has started to pool on the bottom of the crate, so clearly they never bothered to rotate the sticks in there. It’s enough to kill everyone on this boat and it could go boom any second. I need to fly these men up to your jet. None of them will listen to me.”

“Do ya think this tub ain’t all they got in tha world? Like they got all sorts o’ other ways t’ feed their mates, their cubs?”

“It’s too dangerous! Did we save them just to risk their lives again?”

“They’re gonna help move tha stable shit.”

“Move it where?”

“I’m still workin’ that out. Ya gonna help by tellin’ me which crates those are, or do I gotta go down an’ sniff ‘em?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “Tell me this isn’t some ridiculous plot to keep my stolen weapons.”

“It ain’t.” The low growl that rumbled in that heavy chest wasn’t friendly. “If’n that was my plan, never woulda called ya in tha first place. Fuckin’ hell, Tony … it ain’t ‘bout that.”

He sighed as Victor shot him a disgusted glare and turned away, and then stared at the broad back as it rippled and moved, the skin shifting over muscle as it healed. The black shirt had burned away with most of the jeans. Tony had liberated camouflage pants from the largest pirate and handed them over. The feral had yanked them on, not quite able to hide the pain it caused him to move that much.

“All right, fine – anything marked Stark Industries is safe for them to transport. What about the unstable dangerous shit?”

Victor paused in the open doorway of the wheelhouse. “I’m gonna get that.”

“You or them, that won’t make it any less dangerous.”

“Sure it will. Their bits don’t grow back.”

Tony cursed under his breath. “Tell him to cut the engines, don’t anchor, hold her steady – the fewer vibrations jostling those crates, the better. We can launch that long dinghy and load them in it with the gantry crane. I can fly along and steady them.”

Victor frowned. “Rather ya didn’t get that close. Yer bits don’t grow back neither, ya know.”

“You don’t get to risk yourself – and them – and tell me not to. I could just buy them a new trawler, but everyone is insane on this rust bucket, so never mind.”

“Meant I ain’t sure how leakin’ dynamite sticks are gonna like havin’ yer suit handle ‘em – safer fer everybody if’n yer not tha one touchin’ ‘em.”

“I’m not going to touch them – that’s what the dinghy is for. Then they can move the boat away from it and I can sink it. It won’t matter if it ignites by then. I need it to; the blast is going to destroy the weapons – hopefully.”

“I can make ‘em sink slow.” He popped a claw and arched an eyebrow.

Tony was distracted by the blond hair as it crept down either side of the mutant’s neck. He didn’t know whether to be fascinated or disturbed. Shaking his head, he dropped the faceplate down and fired the boots up to hover.

“Be useful and relay my orders – I’m going to help launch the dinghy. Crate transport for the bad eggs needs to be fast – the fewer of them that are stacked in one spot, the smaller the mega-explosion.”

Before he flew down to the other fishermen, he heard the feral speak Mandarin to the vessel’s captain as easily as he had – though Victor used a lot of invectives and managed to make simple instructions sound angry.

Tony told the men what he wanted done and some of them hurried off to hook up the dinghy to the falls. Next, they would steady it with an extra pair of painters attached to bow and stern, and tied to the crane arm. Then the block and tackle falls would be used to lower the crates.

The rest of the crew knelt on the deck and finished binding up the two dead men in tarps. He could still hear their screams. Glancing up at the wheelhouse, he watched the healed feral as he disappeared belowdecks, no doubt heading to the engine room to start moving crates.

When the men around him picked up their fallen friends and moved them to the starboard side closer to the bow, he stifled a shudder and flew over to assist with the gantry crane.

*********************************************************

Victor moved the Stark crates away from the rest one by one, carried each of them up the metal stairs for the fishermen to tackle, and then went back for more. He quickly had Tony’s trio of bad eggs isolated, but he didn’t intend to move them anywhere until the path was clear and he could carry them straight up and out to the dinghy.

It was growing hotter in the engine room without the power on, even without the engines running and adding to the temperature. The reek of oil, diesel, and the bilge deeper down filled his nostrils and the healing factor limped to wipe away both lightheadedness and nausea.

His hair tie had burned away and the mop hadn’t yet regrown long enough to tie in a knot at his neck, so he just put up with it hanging in his face half the time as he was moving crates.

_Tony wants t’ light up tha dinghy from tha air an’ probly won’t wanna listen if’n I try t’ tell ‘im riskin’ attention ain’t a great idea. Other pirates ain’t tha prob, neither. Our fisher boys got no permission t’ be here. They were kidnapped outta their legal waters an’ brought here, but tha fuckin’ Chilean Navy or even their coast guard won’t care ‘bout that. They’ll have anti-aircraft toys, too. Can’t let Tony do it ‘is way – make this an even bigger mess. So ... why even tell ‘im? He already thinks I’m tryin’ t’ steal shit._

Footsteps approached and Victor looked up to see the solemn face of the youngest fisherman peering down at him.

“The Iron Man says we are ready for the last crates,” he informed him in Mandarin.

Victor just nodded and turned to get one. On the way to them, he wiped sweat off his forehead and growled. The old grinding hunger was pulling at him as the healing factor drove it to make him replenish its fuel. The first time he had felt it yank at him as a child, it had terrified him. Now, even knowing what it was, it could make him feel afraid, even paranoid – like a trapped animal. He knew that, but he’d never known how to control fear beyond burying it under either indifference or rage.

 _Shoulda eaten that fucker entire an’ spit out nothin’ but tha squeak._ Victor felt an involuntary shiver thrum over tender new skin. _But Tony saw._ _Tha look on ‘is face…_

He had stopped too soon, consumed too little of the meat. Freshly healed muscles ached – his system was too depleted for his full strength to kick in. Staring down at the last three crates, he snarled at the weakness and exhaustion that threatened to make him fail.

_Tin Man’s got ‘is armor, I got mine – pull up yer fuckin’ bootstraps an’ do what’s gotta be done._

*********************************************************

Tony sent all the fishermen to the bow with the exception of the captain in the wheelhouse. A pair of the men wanted to stay and release the falls from the final crate, but Tony ordered them off with the others. He intended to have Victor cut the falls.

He tracked the mutant through his HUD as he emerged with the last crate through the propped-open door. Fully recovered from extensive damage and as strong as ever, the feral was an impressive sight. The barrel chest and back hadn’t gotten as furry as usual yet for some reason, but the hair on his head apparently wasn’t going to call it quits until it was back down to his ass. He fell into watching his body until it became an off-task distraction. Turning to inspect the falls again, he huffed out a breath.

 _The last thing I need is more unscheduled exertion. I have to give my handy temporary fix for freaky palladium poisoning a chance to work. Get the mission done, get home, rest up, drink more liquid chlorophyll – and hope that governments and terrorists the world over give me at least a few days off to find a permanent fix. Caught it early, though, and I’ll figure it out – nothing to worry about. Not a thing…_ Directing the question to JARVIS in-helmet, he asked, “How are my vitals holding up? Still beating down that pesky heavy metal poisoning?”

“At last check, your blood toxicity level was still holding at 5%, sir. It is recommended that we finish here and return to the search for a replacement for the palladium core.”

“Good plan. Let’s keep on keeping it to ourselves.” As Victor approached, Tony didn’t pop the faceplate up. The last crate’s contents were not in good shape. “That’s the worse one,” he told the mutant. “Careful but fast, let’s do this.”

Holding his breath wouldn’t help, but it was hard not to. The crate was hooked up and Tony lowered it slowly. When it settled on the top of the others, he could unclench.

“Awesome. Cut the falls and painters for me, and tell the good captain to throw it in reverse. Time to fly.”

Victor jumped over the side in a blink, slicing every rope on the way down before plunging feet first next to the alarmingly bobbing dinghy.

Tony shot into the air in shock. “What the hell is he doing?”

“It appears that Creed intends to pull the dinghy off himself, sir.”

“He’s insane!”

“That is correct.”

“Not helping, JARVIS.” He watched, shocked, as Victor gathered up some of the ropes and started to swim. “This is not good.” Once the mutant had towed the dinghy at least twenty feet out, Tony cursed and turned in the air, giving the captain the signal to start the engines and throw the boat into reverse. “You’re a damn idiot, Victor,” he muttered, and the AI was wisely silent.

*********************************************************

From the moment his feet hit the water, he didn’t bother to think anymore about it – the choice was over and done before his claws had severed the first rope. Regrets and doubts were purged by the chill of the ocean and all that was left was the thing that had to be done.

His body surged up for the surface, gathering ropes as he went. He had the dinghy pulling away from the boat before he even broke the surface to snatch a breath.

Victor didn’t bother to look at the fishing boat or the sky; his ears could hear the engines start up underwater as waves rushed over his head. The thrumming vibration of it was receding – so the others would be safe.

Powerful muscles alone kept him at the surface as he swam, defying the weight that had been melted over his bones. The water was choppy, any shift of the crates a danger, but he kept pulling to widen the gap between the engine noise and the deceptively gentle slap of waves on the sides of the dinghy.

 _Tha water’s cold an’ if I can drown, I can die…_ The passing thought was almost a comfort, a specter he often wrestled with. This time, he turned away from it in disgust. _Shut up, asshole – bite it on yer own time. These men need that fuckin’ boat, an’ they don’t need Chilean law up their asses as a reward fer bein’ victims o’ dirtbags. Get it done, an’ get it done right. A li’l farther out…_ He looked up at a rushing sound and saw a streak of red and gold heading right for him. _Aw, hellfire – no time like right tha fuck now._

Releasing the ropes, he dove under the dinghy. With no rhyme or reason on method, he set his claws to the wood, hands and feet, and pushed them all in at once. He extended them to their full three-inch curved length and yanked them out again, creating wide slashes that turned the bottom into Swiss cheese in one instant.

The dinghy began to sink immediately, and Victor started to kick out from under it to resurface and swim away.

Echoing underwater, a dull thud sounded above: wood striking wood. He opened his eyes and looked up only to thrash his head back the second he saw and heard the explosion. The force of it pushed him down deeper, agony snagging across his lower abdomen as the water turned dark with blood and jagged broken wood. Opening his mouth to scream in pain, he choked as the red saltwater rushed inside.

Still thrashing and kicking on pure instinct, he clawed for the surface, trying to get there before he passed out. Something touched and began to wind around one leg, moving again like a ribbon of seaweed as he kicked. When his head erupted into air, he coughed up water and blood.

His forearm was grabbed and pulled. With a spluttering snarl, his other hand came up to slash at it, but stopped when he saw red metal holding him to keep his head above water.

“Victor! Damn it!” the mechanical voice shouted, strangely muffled. It still sounded like it was underwater – and then he realized his ears were ringing from the blast.

Ignoring him for a moment as sense began to return, he glanced around, twisting in the metal grip. Surrounding him, a big red cloud of his blood billowed out. It would bring what he needed.

_Gotta get tha first one that shows, can’t handle a crowd right now – also need t’ reel in tha danglies._

“Stop fighting me, you heavy son of a bitch – let me pull you out!”

Victor glared up at Iron Man. “Let go!”

“What? I will not!”

He yanked at the grip on his arm to get his head below the waterline for a check. He couldn’t see it yet, but he could hear it coming as the ringing began to fade. Then he spotted a distant flash of white under gray – maybe fifteen feet of hungry protein. It was coming fast, and it wouldn’t be alone for long.

Popping back up, he snatched at the metal wrist with his free hand. Blinking fast, eyes burning, he growled, spitting up more blood. “Get off me, I need t’ fight this brute comin’ in!”

“Brute? What the –” The helmeted head turned just as the fin surfaced, cutting through the waves. “Shit! We gotta do this now!”

Victor released his wrist and snarled, tugging again. “Drop me, rot ya, before it’s more’n one – ain’t lookin’ fer a party!”

“This is no time to play _Jaws: the Revenge_! Why on earth would you want to tangle with those things?”

“Pull that arm yer holdin’ up a bit higher an’ find out.”

Victor grit his teeth when the man did it. He didn’t want to look himself, but he had to assess things since he couldn’t feel how bad it was anymore. As his bleeding torso rose out of the water, the big jagged cut was as nasty as he had suspected. The lower belly had been sliced and then blown open, and loops of small intestine were pushing out. Two torn ends dangled down long into the water like spaghetti strands – it was one of them that had wrapped around his leg before. The invincible Iron Man nearly dropped him in shock.

“Oh my god. I’m getting you out!”

“Gotta ... eat, an’ this is it,” he struggled to talk as his head spun, “‘sides muchin’ on pirates, an’ ya don’t like that none, do ya?” One handed, he began to spiral wrap the severed guts around his free forearm, intending to stuff them all back inside his body so he could fight the torpedo with teeth heading for his legs. “Lemme tha fuck go!”

“No!”

The yank as he was jerked upward almost made him pass out. The waves erupted under his feet as maybe 2,000 pounds of apex predator fish breached, gaping jaws wide. Claws on his toes cut the monster’s snout as he was torn away.

Victor closed his eyes when the ocean became a green blur and he didn’t open them again until he felt decking under him as he was slowly set down feet first onto his back. Turning his head, he coughed up more blood as Iron Man’s faceplate popped up and Tony began yelling orders.

“The crates are sinking scrap and sharks are starting to gather, full speed ahead back over there! He’s hurt and he has to eat to heal. Catch us a shark!”

Feet ran and excited voices started calling to each other in Mandarin.

Victor ignored them all. Holding up an arm wound around with intestine, he placed that hand over the frightful gash right in the mess hanging out and held in what was still inside as he pushed with the other hand to roll onto a hip.

“What are you doing?”

Tipping his body over, propped on a trembling arm, he managed to get the red seawater to gush out without losing more intestine.

“Holy shit…” The metal suit crashed down, scarring the deck, as Tony went to his knees beside his head.

“They better hook one fast,” Victor muttered, hissing as he rolled onto his back again. He pushed the intact loops of gut in, watching for any others that might be cut.

“Are you ... doing that right?”

“Can’t layer it proper now – it’ll sort itself out or stay tangled a while, ain’t got time t’ give a shit. Peritonitis is the real motherfucker. Now do me a solid an’ shut it – kinda busy, here, lessen ya wanna help with stuffin’ it back in.”

His arm moved to let the coils fall down it, his fingers pushing them back in. Ignoring Tony’s horror, he grasped the cut ends of the dangling gut still paid out a few inches from the wound and pushed them together.

“C’mon, damn ya – heal!” Alarmingly slowly, the intestine began to knit back together in his hold. Speaking casually to offset his own rising panic, Victor quipped, “Waste not, want not – faster an’ easier t’ go fer tha fix. Cuttin’ it away an’ makin’ it hafta regrow is a bitch, an’ it won’t lemme short-sheet it – regrows tha whole length it’s meant t’ be, every damn time.”

Tony looked positively green. “They’ll catch something, bring it to you.”

Victor frowned. “Well lessen ya gotta stapler or some duct tape, quick ain’t gonna be fast ‘nuff. Sure ya wanna be here right now?”

“I’m going to see this through with you – whatever it takes.”

“Awright, then.”

He lifted an arm, turned his head and dropped his jaw, and bit a lot of meat from the bicep, straight to the shining bone. His teeth shredded it down and he swallowed as blood stained his lips and chin a darker red than they already were.

Tony choked, turned his head away as he fell forward onto the metal gloves, and threw up, retching in misery.

Unable to worry about it just then, Victor popped the healed loop of gut inside the wound and held the edges together. “Triage this, ya cunt bucket mutation,” he muttered before gritting his teeth.

The stomach wasn’t damaged, so it repaired the gut and abdomen before the arm, as he had hoped. In the distance, the men whooped and shouted, and the mouth-watering smell of hooked monster fish wafted over the deck.

Tony wiped his mouth with a metal wrist and fought to straighten up and rise to his feet. Victor could feel his gaze and scent his tangled emotions as the man got out of the way.

Once the abdomen closed enough, he struggled up and moved in a low feral gait closer to the catch. By the time he got there and noticed the damaged snout of the fifteen-foot white shark, the fishermen were using the gantry again to haul up a second one close to nine feet long.

Sitting in a half-crouch between them, Victor didn’t have time to care what anyone thought of his table manners. He leaned over, dropped his jaw, and bit deep as the terrible hunger tore at him, threatening to make him a danger to them all.

*********************************************************

Standing at the bow, Tony watched the horizon as the boat traveled farther away from the Chilean coast. Overhead, the mutant’s jet occasionally circled around them like a sleek white vulture as it stayed close. The fishermen were heading for the East China Sea, but Victor’s destination was Hawaii.

Most of the crew was belowdecks. The mutant had shared his meal with them, allowing them to cut off the smaller shark’s tail. Food was the furthest thing away from what Tony wanted.

All evidence of violence on the boat had been hosed off and swabbed away, except for the fire damage. The two fishermen who had died had been packed in ice and moved to the stern out of sight.

Minus a few bloodstains and slices in the borrowed camouflage pants, Victor had scrubbed himself cleaner than the deck before he fed the corpses of the pirates to the sharks he hadn’t eaten. He had watched the healed feral casually dropping the bodies overboard once they had gotten underway. Long before he had finished, Tony had turned his back on the macabre scene and walked to the bow. He needed to see nothing but waves for a while.

“Tony?” the soft baritone voice called out to him.

When he turned, Victor was crouched low on the deck behind him, having approached soundlessly. He was poised on the balls of his bare feet, perfectly balanced even with the motion of the boat under him. The only reason Tony knew he was there was via JARVIS’s motion tracking report in his ears.

At the sight of him, subdued and reluctant yet seemingly unaffected by anything, Tony frowned.

“I couldn’t blow the dinghy – safely, with no one getting hurt – because you jumped in and got in the way. That was stupid and unnecessary.”

“Had t’ avoid catchin’ tha notice o’ tha Chilean Navy – our boys don’t need tha hassle. Figged if’n it sank first, I could swim off an’ let ya hit it underwater where it wouldn’t make a big boom they’d spot in a heartbeat.”

“You didn’t see fit to mention that?”

“Would ya have listened t’ tha likes o’ me? Already weird they ain’t pissed ‘bout my jet playin’ buzzard up there.”

Tony sighed. _I just want to sleep for a week._ “I had JARVIS call them – I told them I was cleaning up piracy and stolen Stark tech and asked them to keep out of my way. They were happy to oblige.”

“Didn’t see fit t’ mention it?”

“Touché. I didn’t realize you would think of that as a possible problem.”

“Surprisin’ fella all ‘round, ain’t I?”

“Understatement. Huge one.”

Victor watched him for a moment before looking away over the bow. “Wasn’t my plan fer it t’ blow on its own.”

“It’s no fault of anyone’s but those idiot pirates that it went up – trust me, that part wasn’t the surprise.”

“Lucky it only cut me.”

“Only? I’m not surprised by that, either. The weapons were in the crates at the bottom, between you and the dynamite. Most of the blast still went up. You were hit by wooden dinghy and crate shrapnel and shoved down out of the way of the fireball.”

“Weapons exploded?”

“Probably not – but good as gone now. The blast wasn’t as impressive as I expected, and my weapons don’t go boom easily unless they’re designed to.”

“Also wasn’t my plan t’ go all beastie picnic on ya. Didn’t wanna show ya that.”

“I told you I understood it,” he snapped, far harsher than intended. “I can understand the behavior without condoning it. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Yeah, keep tellin’ yerself that if’n it helps ya cope.”

“And then you try to bait me – of course. Silence is golden. Often.”

Victor shrugged. “Gotcha, motormouth. I’ll keep that in mind. Stupid t’ ignore tha truth. Said before ya wanted t’ know ‘bout me – how I get my shit wired tight when tha healin’s on tha fritz is a part o’ me. Anythin’s game that works.”

“I don’t want to hear about it. What I saw was enough.”

The feral tilted his head at him, the expression turning shrewd. “Yer not pissed ‘bout tha how or tha why, just didn’t wanna see me fix tha mess this caper made o’ me. Gave ya a fair head’s up prior. What’s gotta be done ain’t often pretty.”

A flood of thoughts and emotions hit Tony at once as he watched the feral crouch there, fully healed, again. He hadn’t found anything to fix his problem – the toxic heavy metal poisoning that would kill him if left unchecked. As he stood there, muscles trying to cramp, he felt slightly dizzy as a migraine threatened.

 _If I could borrow his healing factor… But I’m sure Hank would have mentioned it if that would work – he’d be developing ways to use it to cure all sorts of things wouldn’t he?_ Ignoring Victor’s assessment of his anger, he answered with a question. “Tell me one thing … in the water – saltwater – how were you not screaming? Any of this … I never once heard you scream.”

“Water temp and shock help – so does previous experience. Plus, I ain’t a pussy.”

Frowning, Tony glared at him. “Only the weak scream, is that it?”

The pointed ears pinned. “Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it.”

“It’s nice to know what you think of the rest of us – including the two men who died screaming while playing human shield to protect those kids from a madman with an M-16.”

He advanced until he stood over him, not missing the twitch of the upper lip that nearly turned into a growl.

“I’m going to make sure the rest of them have anything they need, and the families of the dead are cared for. Since you can’t fly and the jet can’t land on the deck, I’ll be back to get you up there. Then you can be on your merry way – after we figure out where to take the kids.”

Victor returned his glare. “They’re goin’ t’ Hawaii with me. I got someone there who can suss out what they need. Do-gooders like ya only ever return ‘em t’ tha orphanages they came from. Most o’ those places are hellholes.”

“I plan to ignore that crack. Hawaii is fine for a start.”

Without another word, he went around the mutant and flew off up to the wheelhouse.

~ ~ ~

It was late afternoon by the time he flew Victor up to the circling jet. It was hard to believe that one of the longest days of his life hadn’t been that long at all. Smiling grateful fishermen cheered and waved as they went.

Tony dropped the mutant inside the open door, planning to close it and fly off. Between exhaustion, every bit of him aching, and a creeping sense of disorientation, he thought better of it and entered the jet himself. If his math was sound – and it always was – the aircraft could take it. He killed the boot thrusters and closed the door, locking it down to seal it.

“Good to go,” he called behind him to the pilot as he turned to see him.

“Welcome aboard, Iron Man – never got to say that the last time.”

“Last time?”

The pilot just smiled an irritating smile. He looked like he had escaped a seventies porno – a bad one. As first impressions went, Tony far preferred his flying skills to his personality.

Victor spoke behind him. “Arctic airfield, when ya came t’ talk t’ me on my ‘warehouse with wings’ – Zane’s my best pilot, carts me all over. Zane, Tony – Tony, Zane, all that jazz.”

Abruptly, the pilot’s smirk made uncomfortable sense. If he knew Victor’s reputation, let alone his, the reason the two of them had disappeared into the mutant’s private cabin for hours on the monstrous cargo plane probably wasn’t a big mystery.

Tony nodded to the man curtly and turned away without comment to face his current problem, but the mutant had walked off.

Victor went to join the girls at the back in an odd empty cargo space behind the luxury seats. Their nervous windblown clutch parted roughly down the middle, and to Tony’s surprise, they cuddled up to the feral on both sides the moment he sat down with his back against the wall. Victor slumped slightly and blinked up at him before his eyes closed. In moments, he appeared to fall asleep on a bed of fishing net and ropes.

Watching them a while, he saw the children snuggle closer, apparently intending to nap with him.

One of the little ones close to the last row of chairs reached out to grab a black towel that was wadded up near her. She let go of it immediately and made a face before settling down without it. Tony stared as the small hand smeared blood over Victor’s ribs.

Eyes ticking to the towel, he recalled how odd the feral’s behavior had been when he’d first flown here at dawn: hanging out the open door of the jet as the pilot skimmed close over the waves nowhere near the fishing boat.

 _What was he doing just seconds before I got there? How did he find the boat?_ He shivered in his armor. _I bet it won’t do any good to ask my new pal, Bruno._

Moving as quietly as he could to the front, he didn’t question it when the pilot offered him the co-pilot’s chair. He sat gingerly, but it took his weight in the suit without a squeak. Relaxing was out, but he was dog tired and grateful for both the seat and the distance from Victor.

Glancing at the gauges, he was impressed to see they still had plenty of fuel. “After circling all day with the door open, how are you managing to not need a refuel stop before Hawaii?”

“Talent.”

“That’s his line – try again.”

“Where do you think I stole it from? My best girl here has hidden auxiliary fuel stores. Most trips, the only cargo weight is his, so we got clever with the remaining payload capacity.”

“I’d be wasting my time if I asked what that stunt this morning really was about, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“No problem. I can make an educated guess. He missed a towel back there in the clean up phase.”

Silence reigned for a while. Chile was far behind them and the Pacific was vast and empty as they headed northwest.

 _Torn up with those claws until the poor bastard talked, and then dumped without a trace – you know that’s what he did. With any luck, it was another human trafficking creep. Yet those girls trust him instantly? Why? What about their medical needs, trauma, kidnapping red tape? Is it right to let him handle placing them somewhere? I can just imagine telling Pepper I allowed him to do that._ Tony winced. _Yeah, maybe it’s best not to. I’ll have to talk to him about them when we land._

Smirking again, Zane commented, “Uncanny, isn’t it? They’re not afraid of him one bit. I couldn’t manage that, first time I clapped eyes on him.”

“Are you a mutant, too?”

“No, sir – just a natural red-blooded human with a knack for reading people.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“He’s a lot more than just an assassin for hire,” the pilot offered, eyes on the sky as the jet ripped through it at a normal altitude.

“Is he?” Tony asked, just to bait him.

“That’s right, but I bet you already knew that.”

“Whatever you think you know, I don’t care.”

The pilot chuckled, eyes hidden by the darkest cheap sunglasses Tony had ever seen. “Heard that before, from him. No problem, chief – not going to pry. Maybe I’m stumped on why you didn’t just fly off.”

“Life can be mysterious; that’s one of its charms.”

“Oh, yeah. Though I got to say it –”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Tony tightened his jaw when he realized the man was feeling chatty.

“I am used to seeing people tag along in his wake here and there. He can be hard to track down once he slips away, and it seems they aren’t quick to give up his company. Mr. Creed’s a popular guy, with a certain kind of folks – all stripes, to be honest.”

“I have a responsibility to those kids.”

“That’ll be his line, too – promise you that.”

“Why are you along for the ride on this murder caper? For the kicks?”

“In general, it’s my job – best gig I ever landed, and the pay keeps me well ahead of the ex-wife’s lawyers. In particular, I have a daughter I’m almost never allowed to see no matter how steep the alimony gets. Scum like those assholes deserve what they got for hurting kids. The law isn’t stopping them; they barely make a dent. What he does to those people – and he does it often – it’s a public service.”

“I can’t argue with that point.”

“Yeah, I figured – since you were pasting some of them, yourself.”

Tony sighed. “You like him? Would you call him a friend?”

“I call him ‘Boss’, mostly – he likes that. Yeah, I call him a friend. Don’t you? He can be a good friend to have in a pinch.”

“I can’t disagree there, either.”

“You two aren’t exactly peas in a pod, I get that – but you’re both one of a kind. Victor Creed likes you. However you want to feel about that, whatever way you want to take it – it makes you one of the safest bastards in the world. I wouldn’t trade it, myself.”

Tony didn’t answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most people know the cartoon kitten character Hello Kitty, which was created in 1974 by Yuko Shimizu, produced by the Japanese company Sanrio. Bruno was a gay porn star from the 1970s with a stereotypical big handlebar mustache. In my opinion, Victor’s pilot Zane looks a lot like him, hence Tony’s reference. I’m also amused that Tony would know a gay 1970’s porn star by name. The chapter title “Fell Clutch of Circumstance” comes from the poem “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley, one of my all-time favorite poems. The phrase “shit wired tight” is something soldiers in Vietnam said, meaning to keep things in the highest state of organization and readiness. In this case, Victor is referring to his body’s health, not military gear, but the Vietnam soldiers often used it to mean physical and mental readiness as well.
> 
> In Sia’s song “Unstoppable”, she is of course hiding her pain, weakness, emotions, vulnerability, and wish for friendship or love behind metaphorical armor, claiming in the chorus that she has none of these weaknesses, and Victor is doing exactly that. He tries to appear strong and invincible to everyone, only showing his soft underbelly to a very few select people who had to earn his trust over years. Sometimes his feelings for Tony push him to let his guard down, and then fear lifts its ugly head to make him wary again. Tony is fooled often, because to him, Victor seems fully healed while the mutant is barely able to do what has to be done. As Tony’s palladium poisoning gets rolling, unable to fix it and beginning to fear death, Victor’s healing factor almost feels like a slap in the face. Also, it wouldn’t kill them to tell each other what their plans are. Oy. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


	3. Changing Tides

I never let  
my guard go down  
but you messed me up  
when you came around  
When the high wore off  
know you needed space  
but I don’t wanna wait  
I don’t wanna mistake

Few thousand miles and an ocean away  
but I see the sunrise, oh-oh, just like the other day  
Picture your eyes as I fall asleep  
tell myself it’s alright, oh-oh, as the tears roll by  
Ooh, I wish I could feel your face  
Ooh, I’m helpless when I’m oceans away

I never felt  
a room so still  
see the future coming  
hope it isn’t real  
I learned to fake a smile  
as the time runs out  
I don’t wanna wait  
Oh, I don’t wanna mistake

Few thousand miles and an ocean away  
but I see the sunrise, oh-oh, just like the other day  
Picture your eyes as I fall asleep  
tell myself it’s alright, oh-oh, as the tears roll by  
Ooh, I wish I could feel your face  
Ooh, I’m helpless when I’m oceans away  
I’m helpless when I’m oceans away

~ Oceans Away (Arizona)

*****************************************************************

Tony sat in the chair, staring ahead in silence as the pilot called out their ETA to Victor.

The mutant didn’t respond, but he began getting the girls up and into seats, with belts fastened. One of the little ones clung to him and started to cry, and as Tony turned to watch, he crouched down to hush her and stroked her hair, whispering to her in a soft low voice. When she quieted, he disappeared through a door in the back and returned with bottles of water, one each.

Their eyes met, but Victor didn’t smile. “Ya want one? Zane, what ‘bout ya?”

“Any Rock N’ Rye left?”

“Gotta case. Tony?”

“I assume we aren’t discussing the rye whiskey cocktail. I’m not that lucky.”

Zane replied, “Faygo pop, the nectar of Detroit. Rock N’ Rye tastes like vanilla with cherry and a hint of Robitussin – not the shitty Robitussin, the good grape kind.”

“That sounds weird enough to be worth a try, if it’s cold – and if scotch isn’t an option, count me in.”

When Victor returned again with three open bottles, Tony took the offered brown ones and passed the extra to the pilot. To his shock, it did taste good.

“You prefer blue flavor?”

“Cotton Candy – one o’ tha sweetest, just like me.”

Tony didn’t respond to that. “What can you tell about the kids – were they ... hurt?”

Victor stood behind the pilot’s chair. He had found a black t-shirt with _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ lips on it, and changed into worn blue jeans. He was still barefoot. The curling golden mane was beginning to touch his shoulders.

“Mostly freaked out, got scents on ‘em, but – not tha other. They either didn’t have time or wanted t’ fetch full price too bad.”

“Thank God for that,” Zane replied.

“Ya called ahead?”

Zane nodded. “While you two were mopping up – it’s all set. Usual landing plan, they’ll meet us there.”

“Good. Gonna push back tha next stop fer a few days. Need tha break.” Victor tipped the bottle of blue soda to his lips and chugged it down.

Ignoring the disturbingly casual chat about schedules, Tony caught Victor’s attention. “We need to talk about what’s best for the kids. Some of them may have families.”

“Hafta wait ‘til we’re on tha tarmac, I need t’ sit with ‘em fer tha landin’.”

“This is kind of important.”

“Yup, an’ it can wait. They’re afraid o’ this flyin’ cigar tube.” Victor winked at him as he turned away to rejoin the kids. “‘Sides, I pinkie promised. Can’t ask me t’ break that.”

Tony tried to set aside his annoyance, knowing a lot of it was stress over his own problem looking for a fight. One glance back at the eight kids buckled into chairs, and Victor taking a seat between the two youngest ones, nearly evaporated his anger entirely. Some of them spoke to him in Spanish, and he answered them with a surprisingly age-appropriate vocabulary.

“He’s good with kids,” Zane commented.

Tony shot him a glare as he turned back to buckle up and stare out at the world again. “Are you having promotional posters made?”

The pilot’s grin could only be described as shit-eating. “Relax, chief – it’s almost over. Next stop: Kahului Airport on Maui.”

He lowered the faceplate just to escape the man’s grin, relieved he had already asked JARVIS to have his own transport sent to him at Kahului – the big jet with everything on it. He wanted out of his suit something fierce. He also didn’t want to be out of it around the feral.

~ ~ ~

Stepping down from Victor’s jet, Tony stood to one side. For the kids’ sake, he popped the faceplate back up when they came down the steps with the mutant in tow. They all ran up to thank him and he answered them in Spanish. When Victor asked them to gather up a short distance away, they did so without a fuss.

“Are we going to discuss this now?” Tony asked. He noted a large black van approaching. It pulled up not far from the kids and parked. “Someone you know?”

“Yup, a woman who knows all ‘bout kids an’ can place ‘em with real families.”

“Taking them back to Chile is an option they should have, with or without orphanages – I’m not an ogre.”

Victor waved to the older Hawaiian woman who emerged from the van with a young kid and a teen, both girls. Facing Tony, he sighed. “This is ‘er specialty, flyboy – let ‘er do ‘er job. They can cool their heels here fer a few days an’ she’ll get ‘em talkin’ ‘bout what they want an’ where they wanna go.”

“She’s a social worker?”

“Sure.”

Tony frowned. “This had better be official and not some criminal organization’s relocation plan.”

“Stop worryin’, I ain’t lettin’ jack bad happen t’ ‘em – she’s tha kid whisperer. Now I gotta deal with introducin’ ‘em an’ then we can talk quick if’n ya want, but I don’t make a habit o’ hangin’ ‘round at airports out in tha open.”

He should have gone over with him, but he stayed where he was. JARVIS informed him that his transport would be there shortly. Victor led the kids in an anxious knot over to meet the woman and her girls.

“I know he’s right,” he spoke to the AI. “They’re too rattled for making decisions right now, and I know… I know Victor isn’t going to harm them. Hell, he’s better with kids than I could be.”

JARVIS was silent. Tony watched as the woman spoke to the girls. Victor had crouched down again and two of them had instantly pressed into him. He said something to them and then he rose and helped as the woman and teen began getting all of them into the van. The vehicle didn’t move, but Victor turned away and headed back to him.

Tony walked to meet him just to get out of the way of the crew that had begun checking over the feral’s jet. “So how did it go?”

“They’ll be fine. I’m stayin’ fer a few days, so I’ll go see ‘em t’morrow. Whatever they wanna do, I can cover it.”

“Fine, but if you need anything for them, let me know.”

“Ya goin’ home?”

“Probably. Victor … I should leave this alone, I know that.”

The mutant frowned. “I can hear that but comin’, so’s ya may as well rip it off, get it over with.”

“There was a black towel, covered with blood, wadded up on the floor behind your seats in there. Do you want to tell me how it got that way?”

“Nope, wouldn’t be my first pick. I don’t gotta answer t’ ya, ya know that, right? Was a time ya mighta talked me int’ bein’ yer li’l pet kitty, but ya don’t wanna bother, do ya? Tha likes o’ me, I’m a bit too dirty fer yer taste, huh? That makes what I do on my own time even more my biz.”

“You caught one of them, didn’t you? Tortured him to get the location of the fishing trawler – killed and dumped him when you found it. But he told you about the kids, so you called me a second time.”

Victor cocked his head to one side and smirked. “Now see, solid guess – why even bother t’ ask me? Those kids’re alive an’ unhurt cuz I made a garbage human give up where they were. He tried t’ rile us up, Zane an’ me – told us some o’ those girls could be used without damagin’ their price. Gonna tell me that piece o’ offal was worth sparin’ ‘is miserable kiddy-diddlin’ life?”

Tony sucked in a breath, expelled it fast. “No.”

“Thought so.”

In the distance, he heard his jet coming in, and JARVIS confirmed it a moment later. “You win, if that’s what you want to hear. I have to go.”

“Ain’t ‘bout winnin’, Tony – I already lost anyhow. Tell me why ya never called me after that surprise sex drunk dial?”

Tony winced. “That’s not normal behavior for me. I don’t even recall much about it, and didn’t want to discuss it.”

“So ya ran away from it an’ me – at least yer consistent.”

“You want to push? Fine, let’s do this. I assume I was obnoxious and you were snarky but tolerant?”

Victor’s shoulders fell a little, his challenging stance morphing into something Tony couldn’t name. It wasn’t defeat. As the feral watched him closely, his tone was soft. “Ya were upset ‘bout Pepper: messin’ up yer shot t’ make ‘er yer mate. I helped ya feel better. Ya asked fer that.”

Her name pierced him. _We’re always at arm’s length, no matter how close we become, and she feels more but won’t say – won’t risk… Now, I don’t know how to stop this problem from getting worse, and I can’t even tell her._ “I-I really don’t remember much, I’m sorry – but thank you for … helping.”

“Yeah, sure,” Victor muttered, looking off at the jet in the distance marked with the Stark Industries logo. He shifted his weight from one clawed foot to the other and abruptly those warm amber eyes turned icy. “They came t’ rescue ya – if’n yer ready t’ run away now.”

Glaring at him, Tony burst out, “Why do I put up with you? Why do you put up with me? Why do you bother?” He held a palm up a second before the mutant could draw breath to reply. “No, don’t answer that – maybe we’re both better off not having this chat.”

“Tony…”

“What? What are you going to say? There’s nothing here, okay? Whatever this is, just… Stop trying.”

He fired up the rocket boots and hovered a moment, staring down at the feral’s shocked face. He looked hurt, which had honestly been his goal a moment ago, but he instantly regretted it. The mutant was just a convenient target.

The moment Victor looked down away from him, Tony let the faceplate snap down before he did something stupid.

_What the hell am I doing? What. The. Hell._

He soared up and off to the jet a distance away that had his name painted on it. He couldn’t tell in that moment if it was a reminder of who he was or a taunt.

*****************************************************************

Victor felt his heart sink but didn’t watch him go. That hesitation, moments before the faceplate dropped, had been all he needed to see. Something was wrong, Tony was a mess for some reason, and he obviously had no one to turn to.

_Pepper Pots, yer an idiotic li’l clueless bitch – but maybe I owe ya one. Long as ya sit on yer hands, afraid t’ claim yer mate, he’s got nobody left – ‘cept fer this nobody._

The inventor would be back – certain of that, he let it help him raise his head a little higher. He turned, saw his friend observing him as she stood outside the van, and straightened up in an instant. The mask came down, but it was useless – this woman could see through them as easily as Lenusya, these days. When he came up and leaned down to embrace her in greeting, he said nothing. She smelled like tropical flowers and sunshine. For a moment, it felt like an effort to release her, to lose that warmth.

Leimomi hummed softly under her breath. “Will you be coming home with us?”

“Not t’night. He’s gonna try t’ find me, an’ he will – gotta be someplace I don’t mind ‘im findin’.”

Nodding solemnly, she patted his arm. “I understand. Tomorrow then? Your family misses you, and these children you’ve saved will need to see you, for stability in the midst of all this change.”

Victor grunted as he scratched his unruly whiskers. “Not used t’ bein’ tha stabilizin’ sort.”

“You saved them.”

“So did he.”

Raising a white eyebrow, the old woman who looked like an eccentric Hawaiian art teacher dressed in a cotton version of the ocean, peered up at him and spoke just like a mystic shaman he used to know in Africa.

“You are here. He left. You are ohana, he is not.”

“He’s busier’n me, that’s all – an’ pissed at me, what else is new.”

With a shrug, she clucked her tongue. “You don’t want him to know about the house anyhow, but the girls need to see you. They’ve been abandoned for the last time – yet you must show them that.” She turned away, giving him a smile over her shoulder before she went to rejoin the children in the van. “You come home tomorrow. I will bury a pig for you tonight myself with pineapple and mango, how you like it – special, just for you.”

Victor grinned. “Well now. Ya do know how t’ persuade a fella.”

He waited until they drove off, and then walked to the car that had arrived to pick him up. Spotting his pilot, he tossed the man a short wave. “Just a few days, huh? Be ready.”

“Take the time you need, and I always am, Boss.”

The swankiest resort on any of the islands wasn’t far away, with a spa full of skilled people who didn’t hate mutants, and a private villa right on the beach – perfect for a clandestine visit from the Iron Man. Lenusya had already set everything up.

_Once he gets a chance t’ yank that righteous stick outta ‘is ass, maybe he’ll want me t’ stuff it fer ‘im fer a change. So fuckin’ what if’n he’s pissed at me – it still drains tha balls just as good._

“Welcome, sir,” the driver greeted him, holding the door open as he climbed into the backseat of the limo. “The Andaz Maui at Wailea Resort?”

“That’s tha one.”

Victor leaned back and turned his head to stare out a window as the car pulled away to leave the airport. The Stark Industries monster jet hadn’t moved.

_Tony won’t come ‘round ‘til after sunset; he’s gotta make a show o’ resistin’ temptation, after all – plus down-low conditions’re better in tha dark. I got time t’ relax an’ let tha pros get me all pretty fer ‘im._

He watched the beautiful scenery outside his window and purred in anticipation.

*****************************************************************

When the suit was off and had disappeared into the new platform he’d added to get in and out of it on the jet, he stripped shoes and clothes off in a trail to the shower.

In his private suite later, sitting in front of the computer in a white and wrinkled unbuttoned dress shirt and boxer briefs, he slumped as JARVIS told him the latest bad news: another core replacement option they had found couldn’t work, and his blood toxicity was rising again.

Tony stared down at the bead of blood on his finger from the prick to test it. The pain wasn’t enough to pull him out of the stupor he was falling into.

“Sir, the pilot is asking if you intend to head out tonight and where?”

“No, tell him to sit tight. If the crew wants to go out, fine with me.”

He picked up his phone and called Rhodey, but they went through the same circles they always did and even when his best friend tried to ask if he was all right, the words wouldn’t come out.

“Listen, Tony, you sound tired man – just get some sleep and call me when you get home, okay? We need to sort out how we move on with your new direction – unless you let me talk you out of it.”

“I can’t make weapons for the brass anymore, Rhodey – not changing my mind. Tell me they love their new mega-ambulance surgical tanks, make my day.”

“Oh they do. We’ll talk. Goodnight, Tony.”

He stood and began to pace, finger tapping on the side of the phone. Huffing out a breath, he sighed and called Pepper.

“Tony? JARVIS said you’re in Hawaii. How did that happen?”

“It’s a long story – call it a mission.” What he needed to say choked in his throat. She was right there, but out of reach … always out of reach.

“Are you okay? You weren’t hurt, were you? Tony, you don’t sound well.”

“I’m...” _I need you in my life, in a different way, I … need… Oh, hell._ “I’m just tired. Listen, I never gave them an answer, the whoever they were, there was an invitation.”

“What? Slow down a little, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I want to do that thing,” he wracked his brain and the first thing that fell out was the Formula One car he’d bought on a whim. “Monaco – the race – tell them yes, I want to do that. I want us … to do that. I’m way overdue for a vacation. How long has it been?”

“Oh, okay. It’s been almost two years. This is ... weirdly ... early notice, for you anyway, but appreciated. Consider it done. They actually held a spot for you. You’re still not driving that horrid car – the board backs me up on that, everyone backs me up on that.”

Touching the blue glow in his chest, he swallowed a sigh. “It’s okay, just – yeah. I want to do that, go there. With you, and … Happy.”

“I’ll make some calls. Are you going to sleep? It’s not late there yet, but still – you sound like you need to sleep.”

“Yeah, I will, I’m on the jet for the night, just going to stay here.”

“Coming home tomorrow?”

“Sure, yeah, sounds good.”

He let her make him promise to take care and when he clicked off the call, he hadn’t said goodbye. He couldn’t do it. By the time he set the phone on the desk, his hand was shaking slightly and his thoughts felt a little confused.

“This is going to attack my immune system, muscles, breathing, kidneys… It’s going to attack my mind. I’m already starting to ache in brand new places.”

“Sir, if I may suggest you take their advice and get some sleep? Eating healthy and getting enough sleep is –”

“No, not going to do that. JARVIS, get me a rental car, something with snarl to it: impress me. Have it dropped off here; I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Sir, I don’t think –”

“I can think and I’m going out, while I still can. Car, JARVIS, before I’m done finding clothes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He’s here somewhere. Find him for me.”

Tony pulled open a few drawers and randomly yanked out jeans and a black AC/DC shirt. The white shirt hit the floor as he fetched his tennis shoes – the good running ones, in case the mutant was pissed.

“Who, sir?”

“Victor Creed.”

~ ~ ~

The uniquely black Maserati MC12 coupé roared and purred down the road as he took the 311 down to 31 Piilani Highway and out to Wailea. Flirting with the car’s top speed of 205 mph, he might reach his destination before the sun was finished setting.

Thrilling at the risks he was taking, he none-the-less knew the route; he’d even stayed in one of the villas before. The Andaz resort was technically a Hyatt property, and he had taken a few turns with one of their top executives there for a weekend a few years back.

He wasn’t shocked at all that the feral had picked one of the biggest villas. He might not need four bedrooms, five bathrooms, or a gourmet kitchen, but the 4,070-square-foot Presidential Villa was steps from the ocean and included a private 822-square-foot outdoor veranda with oceanfront views, a private plunge pool, outdoor grill, and indoor and outdoor dining and living spaces. Clearly, Victor took seriously his dislike of being cooped up.

_Right up his alley and not a bad spot for a personal meltdown, which I refuse to have. Why the hell am I driving into the night unannounced and uninvited to drop in on an off-the-clock serial killer just because he’s great for a roll in the sack? After I chewed him out and told him to hit the road, it’d serve me right if I get there and he’s already got company for that ‘luxury bath with lava stone floor’. This is also a great way to teach your stalker that no means maybe. You’re insane, full stop._

The foot that was abusing the gas pedal didn’t listen as it hurtled him from Piilani Highway to Okolani Drive and then screeched onto Wailea Alanui Drive. The Maserati was likely under a ‘you break it, you bought it’ type of rental agreement, but he might buy it anyway.

_For a de-tuned Enzo in an overblown chassis, it glides over bumps – the suspension just swallows them without a shiver. Like someone else I know. Here I go again – spending money and taking risks to feel better. Fast cars and talented feral bedmates can’t fix this problem._

He should have asked Happy to come out on the jet, or Pepper. Tony swallowed as he felt his heart thump oddly again.

_It’s just heart palpations spiking as the toxicity increases, not a heart attack. It’s not a heart attack…_

If he could just slow down, relax, take a little time, maybe he could tell them – something.

 _They won’t listen. I don’t know how to make them._ His hands gripped the wheel so hard that they ached as his foot shoved down on the gas. _I don’t … know how to say it. I never did._

~ ~ ~

He stood at the door to Victor’s villa with a rushing sound in his ears and fought the impulse to run. His hand, lifted to knock, was frozen in place. No sounds came from inside.

When the door opened to reveal the blond standing there in jeans, he couldn’t hide a flinch. Neither of them spoke until Tony swallowed hard.

“Not being able to control myself around you is not a good look for me.”

He managed not to flinch again when a large hand full of claws reached to cup his jaw. Victor took a step out, the other hand rising to touch him. Tony closed his eyes, so that the choice of what happened next wouldn’t be his to make. His lips parted, barely breathing.

Victor didn’t kiss him, scenting him instead as both hands held his face still. The low rasping voice made his stomach clench in the same moment that it weakened his knees.

“Tell me – exactly – what ya want an’ why yer here.”

“You know.”

“Can’t read ya good when yer rattled – or when yer not.”

“No, tell me what you want ... from me.”

Victor began to move back, and his voice turned distant, guarded. “Ya ain’t earned that.”

Tony’s breath burst from his lungs in a near-convulsion of simply not being able to cope anymore. He fell forward against Victor’s body and could only breathe when the thick arms circled around him and supported his weight.

“I can’t ... I can’t anymore,” he whispered, pressing his face into heavy muscle and soft fur.

When the lips kissed his hair, the gentle, almost affectionate rumbling tone melted him. “Tell me ... Tony...”

“Take my breath away,” he murmured into that unstoppable strength. “Take my ... choice away.”

He gasped as he was half lifted, half hauled through the door. It was shut, nearly slammed, and the lock and bolt engaged.

Tony kept his eyes closed and let himself be steered through the place until he was lifted and his back touched a soft bed and cool sheets. Opening his eyes just in time to see the claws shred the mutant’s jeans, he stared at the heavy cock as it thickened, defying its own weight as it tried to rise at its root.

The growl of lust was gentler than he had heard it before. He couldn’t look up, fixated on watching that brutal thing start to drip pre-cum as the head pushed its way out from the hood – the foreskin retracting in time with the claws.

He watched as he was moved and stripped. A pliant doll in the feral’s clutches, he allowed it – mesmerized by that expression of wonder as Victor looked at him.

Shutting his eyes again when the mutant rose to loom over him, he didn’t care what happened to him.

Three shallow breaths: he was turned, rolled, by hands far too large and lethal to be very gentle. On his belly as the gleam of the arc reactor was snuffed out by 1,020 thread count Egyptian cotton white sheets, his arms folded to hide his face. Thick fingers slid up one thigh, bending the knee and moving the leg up. The position opened his asscheeks to expose him and spread his legs wide.

Two weak breaths: the tongue touched him first, with barely a lick as it worked in, writhing deep inside. His skin twitched when the smooth curved front of the fang shafts touched his ass, soft lips obscenely kissing the invaded hole even as the tongue licked everything it could inside before beginning to thrust.

One fast desperate gulp of air was shredded by a moan and the moment the feral worked a hand underneath to squeeze his aching cock, Tony came in his palm as it closed around the head of it like a vice.

~ ~ ~

A purr emptied his chaotic mind as soft lips kissed his temple and that low rasp spoke his name like a benediction.

“Tony ... breathe.”

He gasped and drew a breath that set him coughing. Cool glass was pressed to his forehead. It held liquid, and he would have fought to drink, but he was allowed to, nearly fed the bottle. He didn’t care. It was warm, burning his throat as it set his veins on fire. He would have kept drinking, but the bottle was taken away.

The mutant shifted, moved between his legs, and it wasn’t until the leaking head of that thick cock pushed into his body that he was even aware he had passed out and been slicked up and made ready for this.

Pushing in slow, the cock nearly split him. He gasped when it began to almost hurt. He couldn’t see anything in the dim room but flickering warm candlelight everywhere. So many candles – all of them white, like a peaceful and utterly mad church.

 _I’m lying on the altar. I am the altar. This is insane… I don’t want to be worshipped. I want… I want to be … hurt._ Tony shut his eyes tight, fisted the sheets, and groaned. “Don’t stop, keep doing it. Do it until I feel ... numb.”

Victor’s forearms struck the bed beside his head, and slow disappeared as the powerful muscles of lower back and abdomen worked like a piston to fill him again and again.

Tony forced himself to feel only the invasion of his body, the smooth yet still brutal push – no matter how gentle the mutant tried to be. Yet gentle wasn’t what Tony wanted.

“Call me something ... something vile,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Hush now,” came the low whisper back over his ear. “Whatever this is, it’ll pass. I got ya ... ya can let it go.”

“I can’t do this, I can’t be ... weak. Show me how you do it. You’re never weak, never afraid. Show me.”

Gasping as the weight got worse, he felt a large hand push down between his shoulder blades. The other hand was gripping a hip, which was probably going to bruise. Abruptly, it yanked the hip, setting off an alarming pain so sharp that he couldn’t even tell what it was.

The next few thrusts got rough, hurting him despite all the slick. The depth he was subjected to was frightening, but it still felt good – as punishment ... for being weak, for being unable to do what had to be done.

Tony clenched his teeth, endured it, as a shameful scream tried to break free. The fear of slowly being poisoned by the thing that kept him alive, unable to fix it, collided in his head with the fear of being broken as his body was brutally used. Yet he didn’t question it – he needed it. He deserved it.

The heavy head moved low over his back, his sweating skin vibrated by the growl. Tony groaned, imagining feeling those fangs biting out his life – until he felt the feral rutting inside him begin to come.

It took forever to stop, yet only took minutes. Shallow breaths racked his lungs as his wounded heart flailed wildly in his chest. He was trapped, pinned down and speared by a terrifying weight.

 _I told him not to stop._ A chill of dread swept down his spine. _I need it to stop!_

Panic crested and he was helpless – and in the next heartbeat he was released and the powerful thing left his body. He was drenched in sweat and dripping – pouring – with cum between his shuddering thighs.

The mattress tilted and the weight lay down at his side. He flinched when he was grabbed and pulled against sweaty hard muscle and damp soft fur.

“Breathe deep,” the low voice instructed behind his ear, “let it out slow – calms tha heart rate.”

Tony was shocked and appalled when his voice shook. “I told you not to stop.”

“Told me t’ take yer choice away. Ya needed it t’ stop.”

“Can I take it back?”

Those warm lips feathered up the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

“What, yer choice? Natch – I aim t’ please.”

“You always want more.”

One amber eye appeared in his line of sight and narrowed at him. “Not gonna ask – even though yer scent’s off. Relax. Told ya I got ya.”

“How do you do it?”

A sharp smirk flashed before it was hidden behind the messy blond hair. “Yer ma ain’t never told ya ‘bout tha li’l birds an’ bees shit?”

Tony frowned and clarified his question. “How are you never weak or afraid?”

“Hmmm, if’n ya think ‘bout that, ya might could remember that’s bullshit.”

“But you’re ... you don’t –”

“Shhhh, quiet now.”

“Victor, I –”

His head was turned by fingertips on his chin and when he was kissed, he sank into it. Victor’s expressive mouth and tongue soothed him into a boneless sprawl in the feral’s clutches. The kissing and fingertips stroking his skin here and there didn’t stop until he laid still and silent, breathing evenly.

Finally, he broke the silence to whisper, “Why didn’t you pick something ugly to call me when I asked?”

“Ain’t never seen nothin’ ugly in ya.”

“I could make a list.”

“What, like tha list ya got fer me?”

“No... Never mind.”

“Don’t gotta try t’ be perfect fer me … already convinced o’ that.”

“That’s not reality.”

“Call it fantasy then – t’ me, ya are, as ya are.”

“I should go, your schedule...” When he tried to move, a flashing ache skittered through his pelvis and lower back, stealing away both breath and voice.

“I’m where I wanna be, Tony.” The feral shifted, settled, pulled him in closer, and closed his eyes. “Yer where ya need t’ be.”

He wanted to argue or fuss to be released, but between one breath and the next, he wilted and allowed the solid warm comfort to soothe his fears.

*****************************************************************

Victor let Tony sleep, pulling in the breakfast cart quietly. It didn’t take long for the smell of food to make him stir.

Watching as Tony woke, he purred at his sleepy mussed beauty. The man smelled like him from head to toe – his musk, his seed.

“That smells good, now I’m starving.” Stretching, he groaned when he tried to sit up and flopped down on his back again with a wince. “Oh, wow. I think you drove a bus up my ass. Then you tried to parallel park.”

Victor smirked as Tony attempted to be covert in slipping fingers down there.

“I’m also damp without being sticky. So you’ve been busy.”

“This is a full-service resort.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s test that. Feed me?”

Victor sat on the bed, took his offered hands, and pulled him up as gently as he could. All around them, the rich echo of French cade wood, verbena, and Bulgarian lavender from candles long guttered out lingered to enhance the rest. When he leaned in to kiss his lover, Tony hesitated.

“A herd of goats ran through my mouth at some point – did you eat them?”

“Only tha ones that crossed my bridge.” Pressing their foreheads together, Victor whispered, “Kiss me.”

Tony didn’t move, but he responded to the kiss. Victor nuzzled his neck and ear, ducking his head to lick his jaw. Feeling cautious hands touch his chest and abdomen, he purred in Tony’s ear.

“You are insane levels of sensual.”

Letting the purr deepen, he dipped his head low to lightly nudge the arc reactor.

“Wait, Victor – if you wanted to, I’m sorry ... I’m pretty sore, actually.”

He went still, forehead resting on the device. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted, afraid of how Tony might react.

“Hey, are you – ah...”

Victor held his breath until the inventor’s hands abruptly lifted and touched his hair. With one tentative stroke of fingers, the purr rumbled deep in his chest again.

“Oh. Okay. Hello, Kitty.”

Tony was awkward about it, but managed a few strokes and light finger combing through the loose curls that once again spilled halfway down his back.

Victor looked up into those beautiful dark coffee brown eyes and had to swallow before he could speak. “Gotta tray, breakfast in bed?”

“I’m all about it.” As Victor got up, he asked, “What are we having?”

“Eggs Benedict Arnold.”

“Yeah, did I forget to apologize for sort of calling you a thief, among other things?”

“Don’t matter none. It’s Nova Lox Benedict, juice an’ java.”

“Isn’t that a Canadian thing?”

“Tha salmon is, Nova Scotia – but it’s more o’ a kosher thing. Toss on tha hollandaise sauce an’ tha smoked salt-cured fish is fuckin’ tasty.”

“I never would have pegged you as a foodie – it was all growls, grunts, and ‘me eat meat’ at my house.”

“Yer house makes me grumpy.”

Tony glanced around at the white pillar candles on every available surface. “Speaking of unintended reactions to décor, those got a bit weird, you realize – friendly critique.”

“Candlelight an’ lavender are soothin’.”

“That many? Voodoo/snuff film weird. E for effort, really, but less is more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind fer next time.” His steady stare didn’t waver until the inventor dropped his gaze. He got no reply.

They both fell silent as they ate. When he tipped the toasted English muffin to let the food fall into his mouth between his fangs, he caught the brief flash of Tony’s smile. Without comment, the inventor acquired his abandoned muffin slices and ate them.

Finishing off the java, Tony moved the devastated breakfast tray and set his cup on it. “I hate to eat, shower, and run, but I need to go. Thanks for ... everything.”

“Got one request.”

“If I let you shower with me, I’ll need a new ass.”

Victor arched an eyebrow at him as fear crept in. “Shoulda told me. How bad are ya hurt?”

“Nothing to worry about – it’s on me, I wanted it rough.”

“Ya wanted t’ be punished an’ humiliated – even hurt. Why?”

“I ... don’t think I want to talk about it. You weren’t going to ask, remember? Or can I just say you haven’t earned that? Does that go both ways?”

Victor swallowed a growl. “Fair ‘nuff, yer biz.”

Tony rolled stiff shoulders and sighed. “What’s your request?”

“At yer house, ya kept sayin’ this was ‘sposed t’ be light an’ fun, though ya sure got int’ deep an’ intense just fine, more’n once.” Seeing Tony’s wary expression and tense body language, he frowned. “Whatever’s goin’ on with ya – my dick ain’t yer whippin’ post.”

Remembering to close his mouth, Tony glared at him. “I found out you’re a masochist, your files certainly prove you’re a sadist – so even if that was a thing, let’s not pretend you wouldn’t be into it.”

“If’n ya wanna play rough, toy with tha pointies, I’m down, love it. Ya wanna make me yer bitch, make me crawl an’ then fuck me, bring it. I’m int’ that. Hurtin’ ya ain’t what I want.”

Placing fingers to his face, Tony closed his eyes for a moment, pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at a temple. “That’s patently ludicrous. You’re into biting me and drinking my blood. You – do things – to people, with your ‘dick’ ... that hurts, harms, and terrifies them, for kicks. So tell me again how that isn’t what you want.”

With a sharp short snarl, Victor looked away from him. “Yer not...”

“Don’t do that – don’t look down and get mopey on me. I’m not what?”

Jolted by the irritation in his voice, Victor met his gaze and let the word go. “Prey.”

“Well, small favors, good. They aren’t either, though – lots of them were innocents.” He huffed out a breath, staring at him. “Whipping post. Geez. You have a talent for making me feel like a three-inch-high jackass, you know that? I mean, you’re the alleged sociopath. I’m not used to caring if I offend or hurt feelings. Also, I’m the one with the sore ass – my bad, but still. I was half afraid you wanted to make me wider with that pelvis-yank stunt.”

Unable to hide the shudder those words ran down his spine, Victor swallowed. “Didn’t know … or mean t’.”

“Don’t fall apart over it, I’m not broken.” Tony slumped with arms crossed over his chest. “You do seem to forget your own strength at times. Other times, I forget your strength.”

Victor stared down at his fingers where a glint of metal was showing. “Don’t wanna risk losin’ it. Ya hype me up, good an’ bad.”

“Okay, light and fun – whether we’re roughhousing, dirty talking, bloodletting or not – does that work better for you, the guy for whom ‘horrifying felon’ is too mild of a description? I can’t even believe I’m having this conversation.”

Victor didn’t answer, and the villa grew silent. All around them, the world was awake and indifferent to them both. To escape his own confused feelings, he listened to it: people in the resort and on the beach, cars moving down the main road, the endless song of ocean waves. A baby began to cry in the nearest villa, and the mother sang to soothe the tears. He didn’t know the lullaby, but it was in Italian and beautiful. The crying stopped. He abruptly remembered the taste of warm milk from a teat as a soft trembling voice sang over his head.

 _‘Come a-loo, come a-loo, come a hi-lo, come down the merry stream…’_ Fear scent thick, cloying, it infused into his perception of comfort. The voice was female, weak and afraid. In a flash, he saw his hand kneading the breast that gave milk – it was not the hand of an infant. The fingertips were raw … bloody. The blood had stained the cut white chemise that hung from her shaking thin body. _‘Through the woods we roam boys,_ _through the woods we roam…’_ In the distance, as the terrifying hunger forced him to drink, a heavy footfall was coming, chasing horror and fear before it.

Victor startled when Tony’s sheet-covered toes prodded his knee. He glanced up to see a slight smile, somewhere between the kindness shown at the Malibu house and the fake expression that appeared on that handsome face in photos so often. Like a talisman against the waking nightmare, he breathed in that beauty and felt the ghosts fade.

“Hey – light and fun starts now, right, since we are in bed? The internationally infamous boogeyman, Grendel himself – you’re going to ruin your spooky reputation at this rate.”

Dejected, Victor muttered, “Ain’t nothin’ t’ joke ‘bout if’n I nearly broke ya an’ didn’t notice.”

“Look, it’s already better after a good period of being unconscious. It’s fine. I came at you and egged you on, remember?”

Victor frowned, but met his gaze. “Why’d ya keep sayin’ ya trust me, before? Said it lots, even way back in tha damn frozen tent when ya didn’t know from jack if’n I’d seriously injure ya or not. Ain’t gotta high opinion o’ me on a good day – so why say that?”

“I guess I’m not lacking every instinct my ancestors ever set aside a spear to hand down. I just ... didn’t think you wanted to harm me. Turns out I was right. I don’t know, maybe finding out people I thought were good really aren’t – can make a man roll the dice with a sadistic predator who at least is straightforward about what he does.”

Tony stared down at the reactor, his expression growing blank.

Victor watched him. He was familiar with that look. “Do ya hate it?” he whispered.

Blinking in surprise, Tony looked up at him and avoided the question entirely. “Why did you say my scent was off?”

“I can smell a whiff o’ illness – but ya don’t got tha sniffles, do ya.”

“No.” Tony winced, threw the sheet back, and gingerly moved off the bed. “I’ll figure it out and fix it – that’s what I do.”

“Tony?”

The inventor had made it to the open bathroom door and didn’t turn. His back was stiff, with either anger or pain. As he paused, a subtle strain of fear leaked back into his unnatural scent.

“Yeah?”

His stomach dropped, pierced by dread. “It ain’t bad, is it? Tha illness?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” The bathroom door shut with a short snap.

Victor sat there for a long time, listening to the inventor forget the fact that he could hear the sounds of pain he made, even with the shower going. He finally dressed in jeans and a t-shirt before the water stopped – hoping to put Tony more at ease.

~ ~ ~

When Tony’s breath caught at the moment he began to bend down to put his tennis shoes on, Victor crossed the living room to the chair in a few strides and went to his knees to do it for him, fastening them quickly.

“Full service it is.” The inventor caught his eye and winked at him. He glanced around briefly at the serene opulence of the spacious villa around them. “I love places like this. I wish I had a week to appreciate it, but I don’t do nothing at all with much success.”

Fingers touched Victor’s hair and he froze to allow it, staring at the floor in front of the shoes. Tony toyed with the curls, tugging gently to straighten a few, letting them go to watch them curl again.

“Is this stuff going to hit the floor one of these days?”

“Usually stops at my ass,” he muttered under a curtain of it.

“Something we have in common.” The fingers moved to brush the hair from his eyes and held it there in front of his ear. “Don’t hide. Look at me.”

He got as far as his chin, staring at the artistic sculpted facial hair there and along the jaw. “Do ya want…?”

“Rain check, okay?”

“Didn’t wanna hurt ya…”

“Hey, hey… Come on. Eyes up here. I’ll be fine.”

Victor slumped at his feet, in a loose hold of fingers in his hair, barely breathing. Tony’s beautiful eyes shone with kindness again. His free hand rose and the thumb stroked up the front of a long fang. It made Victor shiver, but it felt so good.

“You used to be shorter, smaller – when you were younger, and your friend, well lover, I suppose, was bigger, wasn’t he?” When Victor nodded, Tony smiled and stroked the fang again. “You have two major modes of how you fill space – larger than life, with ‘I own it’ swagger, and trying to compact yourself into as small a ball as you can. It’s a little odd to see you do that from my perspective, but since you do ... I should do the responsible thing.”

Victor wilted and looked away. This time, he wasn’t chastised for it. “Don’t need t’ hear it.”

“Yes, you do. We both should come with disclaimers. Don’t rely on me, don’t hang anything on me. I’m not ... worth it.” Tony tucked the hair he’d been holding behind a pointed ear.

Victor’s head snapped up. “Ya are t’ me.”

“I don’t have much time.” He paled, his expression haunted. “Free time, I should say. For some reason, I keep ending up doing this with you, and now and then, it’s ... well it’s exactly what I need.” Tony’s hands settled on his shoulders. “Victor, don’t count on me. I’m...”

He studied the handsome face and whispered, “Lightnin’ in a jar.”

Tony smiled, but he looked sad. “The jar has seen a lot of mileage.” Straightening in the basket chair, he withdrew his hands to his knees, the fingers tapping there first like skittish things before they settled. “I can’t be him for you, and I’m too much of a mess to be able to carry anyone else.”

“This ain’t ‘bout ‘im, an’ I don’t need nobody t’ carry me. I know who ya are, know yer outta my league.”

“There isn’t a league; there are just people who don’t deserve to be trapped in the wreckage I leave behind. That’s why I chase one night stands. You know that – you know that’s what this is.”

“I’m a way t’ get yer itch scratched – that’s no mystery. Teachin’ me anythin’, consent, all o’ that – it’s just what ya tell yerself t’ excuse wantin’ t’ fuck me.”

“Ah ... touché. I had hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

“Don’t care. Told ya, I’m where I wanna be.”

“Victor...”

Barely able to speak, his voice was low and shaky ... weak. “Don’t tell me t’ go away.”

Tony sighed. “I’m ... not, because I don’t want to play games or toy with you. Pepper even told me not to, she said it was cruel – if that matters to you at all. I know my willpower often sucks. I can’t tell you ‘this is it’ because I’ll end up at your door again, sooner or later. You may say now that crumbs are enough for you, but they shouldn’t be and eventually you’ll realize that. I also can’t tell you I’ll make the effort to keep in touch. I probably won’t.”

Staring down at his hands, limp on his thighs where he knelt at Tony Stark’s feet, Victor felt despair clouding his vision.

“Nothin’ new t’ me. I ain’t what anybody wants t’ keep.”

“It’s such a cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. You’re fascinating and fun – most of the time.”

“Ain’t ‘nuff, cuz I ain’t ‘er.”

“It’s nothing to do with Pepper. That ‘light and fun’ plan hinges on this. Don’t ask for more than I’m able to give. I simply won’t.”

Victor drew in a breath and let it out slow as Tony fell silent. In one smooth movement, he rose to his feet. “Got no claim here. If’n ya want ... anythin’ ... ya got my number.” He turned away to stare out the window, seeing nothing.

“Our stray tech deal still holds?”

“Natch. I don’t want yer shit in tha hands o’ bastards that might could use it on me. Still gonna trade me fer it?”

“Yes, with the original limitations. I can’t hand over things that make you a better criminal – I don’t need more innocent blood on my hands.”

Victor stifled a sigh and brought the mask down. Letting his lips stretch into a toothy grin, he faced the man and asked, “How ‘bout tha dirty fuckers – ya care what happens t’ their blood?”

Tony stared up at him, and it was hard to tell if he was sold on the attempt to retreat. “Not particularly, no.”

The inventor rose, trying to hide his pain. By the way he stood, with weight shifted to the left, Victor knew the muscles around the right hip were the problem.

With a snort, Tony groused, “Stop assessing me like a limping gazelle you plan to isolate from the herd.” He fished car keys from a pocket of his jeans. “Call or text when you want or if you catch more contraband – I’ll pick up or respond when I can. Actually whistling in my eardrum is not necessary.”

Victor stayed where he was, his back to the window. He could hear the waves crashing gently to the shore.

“How are the kids doing? I assume you’ve checked in. Have they said much yet?”

“Collection o’ orphanages in Chile or caught out on tha streets – they got nothin’ an’ nobody t’ go back there fer. My contact, she can place ‘em with good families here, an’ they all want that. They wanna stay close an’ still see each other. Gonna pay their bills, get ‘em settled, an’ watch over ‘em here an’ there. Ain’t gonna argue with ya ‘bout it, neither. Got it handled.”

“No argument at all – what you’re doing for them is ... amazing. I won’t forget it.”

Victor nodded once and turned back to the window. The door unlocked, opened, and closed. He kept his eyes on the ocean, trying to use the soothing song of waves to drown out the sound of the slight limp in Tony’s gait as he walked away.

The undertow beneath the flotsam of his thoughts hid the helpless fear: the insidious creeping scent of a growing illness.

~ ~ ~

Victor lay draped down the pool steps at his Lahaina safe house and let Leimomi’s signature luau roast pig digest as he lazed in the pool that took up one end of his living room.

The waterfall in the room that fed the pool gave off a soothing constant rush of mist over his skin. The gentle breeze wafting through the open sliding wall was full of the heady scent of flowers and the alluring sound of the ocean waves. Spiking through the endless rush of water on all sides were the voices of children playing on his private beach – those who had been born here, and the new ones he and Tony had saved.

 _They shoulda been tha voices o_ _’ cubs me an’ Tabitha had t’gether. Planned t’ bring ‘er here an’ she woulda seen how it could be ... but that ain’t gonna happen._

Leimomi’s scent entered the room, adding coconut oil to the mix. As she stepped down into the pool and approached, Victor moved to the shallow platform and leaned his chin on crossed wrists out of the water to give her his back. Massaging strong hands warmed the oil as she smoothed it into his skin, working it into his hair as well. From neck and shoulders, down to the edge of the swim shorts he’d dug out of a forgotten drawer.

“I almost don’t recognize you in clothes,” she teased.

Victor sighed into a purr. “Got me a PG-rated house fer a bit, don’t wanna traumatize tha cubs.”

“We can place them easily with local families who will adopt them, but I wanted to give them time here together first. Hopefully, they will forge friendships that will last and have others of shared experience and heritage to talk to – that can be important as they grow older.”

“Fine by me, ya know what yer doin’. Anythin’ they need, now or down tha road, send tha bill t’ Lenusya like I said – that includes tha folks that adopt ‘em. Call yerself their sponsor or some shit, whatever works, but I pay tha bills, got it?”

“Of course, though you pay me well enough for all of it.”

“Yer money’s yers – they’re my responsibility.”

“As you like. I can send them all to my eldest son’s place, if you want peace and quiet.”

“Makani? Naw, he’s got cubs comin’ outta ‘is ears already. I like hearin’ ‘em out there. Can’t stay long anyhow – gotta swing ‘round tha globe again soon.”

“My Nalani tells me you aren’t in the Yukon often or for long.”

“Got yer spies everywhere.” He could almost feel her smile, warmer than the oil. “‘Preciate ya trustin’ me t’ have ‘er there fer Silas.”

“Don’t let your son grow up without you – he will need your example whether he is a mutant or not.”

“Nobody thinks I’m a good example fer nothin’ ‘cept ya, darlin’. He ain’t quite a year old yet, Nalani’s still nursin’ ‘im – I got time.”

“You will find it slips away all too quickly. Is Tabitha why you limit your time there?”

The purr guttered out. “She’s gotta right t’ see ‘im often as she wants – but it drives me up a tree bein’ ‘round ‘er. I don’t change much. These’re tha cards we’re dealt.”

“Once you love, you remain in love, even if others move on. I wish you could find some measure of peace for yourself. I wish you could have brought her here to have the baby. So much sadness...”

“I can’t figure out females at all,” he groused. Frowning, he added in a mutter, “Tabs ain’t a mystery, though. If’n I could change how we started, I would, but can’t go back – it’s done an’ gone.”

“And Tony Stark?”

“He ain’t mine an’ never was. Never will be.”

“Your feline self believes he belongs to that man, does he not?”

“Oh, he’s lickin’ Stark’s jaw an’ all now. Tha inner kitty’s stupid like that – he won’t listen t’ me or budge one bit. ‘Course, tha man’s got zip clue ‘bout tha hold he’s got on me. He thinks I gotta stalker crush. Now he’s … sick, somehow.”

“Sick does not mean doomed.”

Victor sighed and slid out from under her hands. Moving to the waterfall, he stood under it and let it flow over him. It was cool, soothing, and utterly unable to wash away the fear.

_Tony has a sickness he’s afraid he can’t fix – he was scared, desperate, a mess…_

Rising in his thoughts like a curse was a memory he hated: the twist of a delicate neck, the easy and horrific snap, and a woman who could have been all that he ever wanted or needed had slumped in his arms, dead.

The house was empty. “Bonnie,” he breathed her name like a prayer.

Her death had been a gift, an act of mercy, to spare her pain and fear – because he had promised to keep her safe. The virus she carried could have wiped out two continents, but only her fear and pain had mattered to him. He had barely known her, but he couldn’t care about that. He hadn’t been able to shake the ghost of what they could have been to each other.

 _Now Tony, now… Whatever this is, if it’s bad, if he…_ He felt sick, but the healing factor smoothed it away. For one blinding instant, he hated the healing ability that his mate did not have, hated that he had no way to share that, no way to help – any of them. The chill of a newborn fear crept into his heart and shattered his anger. _He came t’ me wantin’ t’ be hurt. If’n he asks, t’ be … spared…_

Hissing in pain, his head bowed as he held himself and snarled – and sunk flashing claws into his arms. Blood dripped down to the water, where it was diluted and pulled apart until it simply didn’t exist anymore – like them.

“Bonnie. Michel,” he whispered. “Can’t do it again, no matter how many times I do it in nightmares. No. Not Tony… I’d find a way t’ die first.”

*****************************************************************

Tony swallowed hard as he laid his head down on folded arms on his workshop desk. He stared at a glass of melting ice at his elbow as beads of condensation began to roll down it. He had broken his new pact with chlorophyll and poured the scotch out of pure desperation. The ice was insurance that only so much alcohol would fit in the glass. It had been just a few days since returning home, but normally, they would have solved a problem within hours.

“Where haven’t we looked for a palladium replacement? No stone unturned, right?”

“I shall run the numbers again and start a fresh search, sir,” JARVIS responded.

He picked himself up to slouch in the chair. “Once more into the breach.”

Looking around the workshop, he stared at Victor’s abandoned firearm on a work table: an antique and functional blunderbuss.

 _Don’t call, leave him alone. Have some pride._ His gaze didn’t waver. _He saved my life so often, but he can’t help with this._ He sat quietly for a few minutes, picked up the glass to swirl the ice around, and then put it down as the familiar desire to be blitzed out of his mind to cope reared its ugly head. _One vice or another, huh? Lesser of evils it is – from a health standpoint. Shit._

He picked up his phone, hit a speed dial number, and set it on the desk with the speaker on. As it rang, he tried not to fidget. The moment the mutant picked up and he heard the slight growl, Tony launched the first verbal salvo without stopping for breath.

“What are you wearing? Is it a ‘blood of your enemies’ sort of day?”

“Fur.”

Tony smiled and teased, “Neiman Marcus polar bear sheik, floor length mink?”

“Just tha fur my pa gave me on my birthday.”

“Not in a ‘bye baby bunting, daddy’s gone a-hunting’ sense, I presume.”

“Nope. What ya want, Tony?”

“Hmm, well you’re irritated with me, but at least you aren’t calling me Stark.” He tapped a staccato rhythm on the desk. “Remember when I mentioned sooner or later I’d end up at your door again?”

“Want me t’ set an extra plate on tha supper table or what? Thought ya were sore.”

“I am. I ... want to ask for a favor. Feel free to call me an ass, tell me no, whatever you need to do.”

“Shoot an’ we’ll see.”

“I can’t relax, I’m not sleeping, I ... need to relax.” He held his breath through an anxious awful pause.

“We ‘bout t’ have us a long distance circle jerk? At least yer sober, give or take. Ain’t found a disposable skirt? An’ ya call me a misogynist.”

Tony felt his neck flush as a stab of embarrassment warmed his skin. “I deserve that. If it’s no, that’s ... fine.”

Another pause. “Ain’t sayin’ no – don’t got tha balls t’ tell ya t’ go fuck yerself, neither.” Victor sighed. “Could come out here – Oslo – by suit or jet. Yer ass can be off tha menu.”

“I can’t, I just need...”

He ran his fingers through his hair, nervous and feeling trapped by his own body. The mirror image on his monitor had shown him the evidence he couldn’t ignore – telltale patterns of poison crept through veins, reaching out from the arc reactor like a dark promise. His blood toxicity level had risen yet again.

“Victor...” he whispered into the feral’s silence.

“I got ya, Tony, don’t gotta worry none ‘bout that. Breathe fer me, deep an’ slow, an’ don’t stop.”

Flooded with relief, he leaned back in the chair and palmed his indifferent crotch. Focusing on breathing, he didn’t feel it stir until the low purr rumbled all around him, magnified by the AI. He opened his mouth to ask for what he needed to hear, but Victor already knew.

“Wish ya were here but damn, can’t say no. Need ya too bad. C’mon, Tony ... lemme hear ya, lemme have ya...”

He forgot to close his mouth, and the groan he gave the feral when he was told to release himself from clothing burned away the shame he felt over asking for this.

Tony closed his eyes and did everything to himself that Victor told him to do, trying to experience only that and ignore the rest of his body.

“Sink int’ tha feelin’, an’ my voice. I love tha feel o’ yer cock, tha skin so smooth an’ hot, how it slides when ya stroke it. Tha taste … so sweet an’ … good.”

Letting out a nervous burst of laughter, Tony murmured, “I can’t taste it for you, I don’t bend that far.”

He was rewarded with a deep burr of that purr and shuddered at the sound of it.

“That’s it, relax. Stroke it an’ squeeze tha head each time ya get there.”

“Do you want me to tease it, not come yet?”

“No. Want ya t’ come fer me. Then yer gonna go stretch out on yer couch an’ nap it out. I’ll make ya come there, too.”

He felt it gathering, the curling and tightening pressure building. His hand gripped harder, moved faster, when Victor told him to.

“Growl purr at me, oh shit, I love that.”

The sound of it filled his head, his body. He twitched, arched his back and throttled his cock, a straining groan leaking out through his clenched teeth.

“Cup yer other hand over tha head,” Victor whispered. “Catch it fer me – it’s mine.”

Trembling, Tony cried out as he came, barely catching it. He gasped, his breathing rough again. Coaxed by the soft baritone, he slowed each breath, inhaling deeper. His hands were still shaking from the pure overload of sensations.

“Lift yer hand, Tony, lick it fer me – taste it fer me, I want it… Tell me how good it tastes – salty and sweet.”

He hesitated, his fingers trying to get it all so it wouldn’t drip. Caught by the voice, he lifted his hand to his lips. Remembering the times he’d seen the feral lick at it, how hot it was to watch that, he swiped his tongue out over the pearly slick.

“Go on, lick an’ suck it fer me. Tony, what I’d do t’ ya if’n I was there…”

In time with his words, he licked until his hand was clean. “It’s a little bit tart, too,” he muttered.

“Yup, like a touch o’ lemon – just thinkin’ ‘bout yer taste … gonna make me come.”

Tony sat up, hands on knees, and stared at the phone before closing his eyes again. “Come on, Victor, do it. Fall apart for me.”

When it happened, the feral didn’t roar or growl. It was a soft sound, almost a broken sound.

“Victor, yes…”

He rose slowly on jelly legs and went to lie down on the couch with his phone, not bothering to tuck himself back into his jeans. He set the phone on the coffee table. One hand on his half hard cock, he draped the other arm over his eyes.

“JARVIS,” he spoke quietly, “dim the lights, and the door, seal it. Amplify voice.” To Victor he asked, “Are you going to nap with me until we can do it again? If you have to go, I … understand.”

“No, Tony – I’m where I wanna be.”

Somewhere between too busy to bother and realizing he was becoming sick, he had stopped doing anything that wasn’t a mission or trying to solve his problem. He had been with no one more than once for even longer … except for Victor.

Fear crystallized when he was alone now, and the sound of the feral breathing yet not touching him cracked it, made it prism into an unbearable loneliness. He reached for the phone and set it on the arc reactor.

“Can you hear it – the reactor? You sleep better with that sound, don’t you?”

“Sleep better with ya.”

A slight shiver ran through him. “Talk to me, Victor, tell me … what you’d do if you were here now.” Tony’s hand had tightened on his cock, but as the rasping whisper answered, he let it loose.

“What I wanna do… Wanna chase yer demons ‘til they bleed out under my claws, wanna keep ya … safe.”

That low tone, already like a drug, had morphed from vicious protection to something that made Tony’s breath catch. He was weary now of taking sex from others – they wanted the rich playboy. They didn’t care at all, unaware that it was a performance, a mere mask. The feral had looked through that mask from the start, trying to see who was hiding behind it. Tony hadn’t wanted to let him see and had pushed him away to prevent it.

 _Why? Because he’s … a monster._ That steady breathing through the phone was a comfort, until it hitched, stopped, and then slowed. _He’s more animal than man, though – more animal than monster. Monsters aren’t born, they’re made._ Victor’s voice in his head, something he had said in his kitchen in Malibu, ghosted into his troubled thoughts. _‘Somethin’ men do.’ He’s still trying to learn how to be a man in the wake of bad or absent teachers – just like me._

Tony lifted his hands to his phone, touching it since he couldn’t touch the person who wanted to help, wanted … him – saw him.

_All the risk, how badly I’ve treated him, no matter how impossible I’ve behaved, he just – keeps trying. No one else … has._

He opened his mouth to speak, nearly choked on the words, and then gulped them out in a desperate whisper.

“Tell me how I make you feel.”

Victor hesitated. “Like maybe I could be … worth somethin’ … if’n ya wanted t’ touch me.”

Loneliness bloomed, sparking pain. _God, I wish I could._ _He isn’t who I want, but he’s the only one … who is willing to do the work to … want me._ Tony’s entire body fell still as he barely breathed enough to ask, “In one word, tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

Even amplified by the AI, he almost couldn’t hear the answer when it finally came. The soft low voice filled the air around him, half breath and half whisper.

“Weak.”

 

**FINI.**

(Sabretooth will return in _The Hunt: Flipside_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flavor description of the Faygo pop was borrowed from an article about a Juggalo (ICP fan) taste review. I’m a fan of the band Insane Clown Posse, and I’ve decided that Zane should be from Detroit, their home town. Tony calling the Maserati MC12 a “de-tuned Enzo” is from a performance quote about the car by Jeremy Clarkson via Wikipedia. He was comparing it to an Enzo Ferrari. I love adding techie stuff in to let Tony sound more like Tony.
> 
> The references to goats and bridges are from the Norwegian fairytale "Three Billy Goats Gruff", with Victor cast as the bridge-skulking troll who wants to eat them. It’s been my favorite fairytale my entire life. "Bye, Baby Bunting" is a very old nursery rhyme, first published in England in 1784. The lyrics Victor remembered his mother singing to him are from an English folk song called "Down the Merry Stream", dating back to the Revolutionary War period (1775–1783). As stated in an author’s note in my tale "Redemption", the downtempo haunting version I’m using for Victor can be heard in the Country tune "Grandma’s Song", by Gail Davies.
> 
> I hope those who are reading this series in order already know who Lenusya and Silas are. "The Hunt: Flipside" will feature Jubilee as bait in a Hydra-hunting adventure when Victor will finally get to go after the Fixer, who tried to have Tony assassinated in my story "Cutting Edge". I also need to update my other WIP fics … I’m so very behind on that front. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


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